


The Hunger

by LollirotXoX



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy!Mickey, Drug Use, M/M, Smut, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollirotXoX/pseuds/LollirotXoX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in the murky waters of misery is a little bit easier when you have someone wallowing next to you, keeping you just barely above the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Put The Mask Back On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be finishing Surfacing right now… but this wanted to come out. I'm still new to writing in this fandom and getting back on the horse of writing in general so sorry if it's not as detailed and flowing as most! So, this takes place about a year and a half after the end of season 3. Mostly will be canon with maybe a few additions here and there in form of memories and what not. The rest of the situation will be explained as it goes. I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, I hope you enjoy! It IS an Ian and Mickey story, but it’s pretty slow burn because Mickey has to work through some things within him as does everyone else , so bear with me. Promise it’ll be worth it =] Going to do my very best to keep Mick and everyone else in character as much as possible, but I think being a single Daddy for a little while now would have given him the slight softness I express here. Ian will be back eventually, not sure when yet. I was too impatient to get this beta’d, so forgive any spelling or grammatical errors that I’m sure are everywhere. Enjoy! =]
> 
> I don’t own anything, except any of the original characters. Complete copyright on them! My song inspiration for this chapter is "Cover Up" by Trapt.

 

                 _Put the mask back on, put the mask back on_  
_Don’t take it off until everybodies gone_  
_No disguise has ever lasted so long_  
_You created your own little world,_  
_Where you could always be different_  
_A place where the rules do not apply,_  
_You could never be denied_  
_You took advantage of a good thing_  
_And now the void you filled is empty_

* * *

 

                Karma really was a bitch.

                That was honestly the only explanation Mickey Milkovich could come up with for the FUBAR soap opera he called his life these days. He didn’t really know how he’d gotten to this point, had just been coasting through each day, going through the motions just to get by.

                Each day he had to ignore the ache in his chest that flared painfully any time he saw a prick in an army uniform, or a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. It had been a good year and a half now since he’d seen the only red hair he actually wanted to, but that was sort of the point wasn’t it?

                Life was, well better than he had expected it to be this time last year. Considering this time last year he was being saddled with a Russian whore and a false breeder life just to placate a man that didn’t honestly give two shits about him. It made his inside burns with fury, but it was what it was.

                The cry to his left shook him out of his reverie, and he quickly finished stocking the beer he had in his hands into the fridge before moving to the baby screaming for his attention.

                “Shhh…” He murmured, still not fully used to the softness he was surprised seemed to come naturally when it came to this little life as he reached towards her face. His little life. And his alone.

                As the irony of his fucked up life would have it, Svetlana died giving birth to the little girl staring up at him with wide, blue eyes. His eyes, thank whoever the fuck for small mercies because if she looked too much like Lana he didn’t know that he’d be able to handle that. It probably had more to do with all the drugs she’d taken in her life before the pregnancy; her body had just given out. He wouldn’t have wished death on her, it wasn’t her fault his dad was a psychopath that had royally screwed up both of their lives. But it wasn’t like he was heartbroken she was gone and he wasn’t trapped in a farce of a marriage or anything either.

                Throughout the pregnancy, he’d been hoping the baby would pop out black or Asian like Karen Jackson’s baby had. Just so he could tell himself he wasn’t fully trapped in this lie for his whole life. But, she hadn’t. And when he saw the dark tuft of hair, the pale white skin and the bright blue eyes that matched his own his heart had clenched in something akin to tenderness as a fierce need to protect this child rose in him and he knew she was his in that moment as much as he’d wanted to believe otherwise. Surprisingly enough, it turned out Mickey wasn’t half bad at being a father. The little shit warmed him in places he didn’t want to admit existed, and he found himself being unable to deny her anything and he didn’t even get mad at her for not shutting up when he was trying to sleep anymore. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t change her own diaper or feed herself, or that it was hard to get a good lungful of oxygen in the Milkovich household with the bitter taste of meth and misery in the air.

                As soon as he was in her line of vision, the cries cut off. The baby instantly latched onto his fingers, sucking his finger with the ‘K’ tattooed on it into her mouth as far as she could before he quickly jerked it back. He was pretty good about being half assed clean these days, didn’t want her catching any kind of bacteria or grossness from his lack of hygiene but he’d been moving boxes and stocking shit all day and his hands weren’t his first choice of things he wanted his daughter putting in her mouth. He made sure as shit she was always nice and safe and clean, and if anyone had anything to say otherwise they could just fuck off.

                Pale blue orbs flicked to the clock, before he looked back down at his daughter and couldn’t help but smile a little bit at her as she cooed at him. “Just another hour and then we can go home and I’ll give you some cranberry juice before we put you down for the night, yeah?”

                For some reason, cranberry juice was the only thing she would drink before bed at night. So he’d learned quickly that whenever he wanted her to sleep, give her some of it and she was out like a light.

                Her ecstatic burble was enough of a response for him, not that he really believed she understood him but he knew his voice soothed her for some weird reason. Must mean she loved him or some shit. Not like she really had a choice, he was really all she had. Poor kid. She was destined to be fucked up, just like the rest of them.

                He had kind of made it his mission to make sure she made it out as unscathed as possible. Taking up full time hours at the Kash N Grab because well fuck, he was already comfortable there and Linda kind of understood his situation. She was too wrapped up in her own toddler and pre-adolescents to truly care, but she let him bring the baby to work when Mandy couldn’t watch her and didn’t give him too much shit for being half fucked out of his mind when he was having a particularly bad day. Besides, it was beneficial for her to have a Milkovich working there, intimidating as he always was. Good for business. He wanted to eventually be able to do something more, maybe take up that job tarring roofs or be a bartender or just something to at least attempt at giving his kid some semblance of normalcy and a little better quality of life than living at the Milkovich house with his father and brothers would give her. At least Mandy shared his sentiments as well, and did her best to keep anything harmful away from the girl.

                Terry was still terrorizing his children on a daily basis, and Mickey was more frequently that target than ever before since Lana had died. Guess that meant the faggot in him was showing more, fuck if he knew. He just shut the fuck up and took it; the harsh, unnecessary beatings and the cruel words and taunts. Because really, what could he do? He had a ten month old baby girl to look out for, and he sure as fuck couldn’t afford his own place in the current situation he was in so he was trapped. He’d keep his mouth shut as long as Terry kept the roof over his and his daughter’s head that was all he really cared about at this point. Especially because Terry wasn’t stupid enough to even go near his girl, which was a fucking good thing because Mickey didn’t know how he’d handle it if Terry was even breathing on her with her so tiny and fragile.

                Just as he was finishing up unloading the last case of beer lost in his own head, the bell over the door jingled to announce another being’s presence in the store. Eyes flicking up swiftly to check out the person and decide whether his girl was safe where she was in her little rocker on the counter by the register, he was satisfied when he saw a petite brunette girl with a baby on her hip and went back to his business. No threat detected.

                After a minute of the girl moving around the store and grabbing a handful of things, Mickey made his way to the register to ring her out. Not bothering to meet her eyes while doing so, he quickly bagged the contents she’d spilled on the counter before totally everything up and speaking in a bored voice. “Fifteen seventy five.”

                “Can I have a pack of Marlboro Reds too?” Came a soft reply, and Mickey couldn’t explain it but something in her voice made his eyes finally lift to latch onto hers.

                He didn’t move right away, taking in the sight of this girl as she just stared right back. She was very pretty, almost unfairly so if you went for that team and he could imagine lots of girls hating her right away for it because it was a very natural kind of pretty. The way Mandy was, when she didn’t have all that shit caked on her face. This girl didn’t have barely any make up on at all, if she did the large purple bags under her eyes wouldn’t be showing so much, standing out against her skin that was almost even paler than his. Said eyes were a shade of intensely deep sapphire blue, he’d never seen anything like them before. They were almost teal they were so blue. Her sharp cheekbones seem to be sunken in, curving down into a heart shaped jaw around bitten and swollen lips. Her long milk chocolate brown hair fell down below her elbows in messy waves and her stance screamed exhaustion. Like she had no life left in her and was forcing herself to make it through every minute that passed. Something in her eyes told him she was very lonely, and he didn’t know how he knew that. Just did. She wasn’t very tall at all, standing at maybe five foot three at most and her frame was slight. Her clothes looked ragged and rumpled, as if she hadn’t changed for a day or two and she reeked of baby and smoke.

                The baby clinging to her side was fucking adorable and he couldn’t help but smile a bit at the little one. So he had a soft spot for little girls now, fucking sue him. She had hair like her mother’s maybe just a tiny bit lighter, more of a chestnut brown than the deep brown of the older girls, her skin a had a little more color and her eyes were a freaky warm amber color. Like the color light brown eyes are when the sun shines in them, almost like honey. She smiled widely at him, before her eyes landed on his daughter and she squealed and tried to burst of her mother’s arms in excitement.

                “No, hold still!” The girl sighed, holding her a bit tighter even through the insistent squirms.

                Realizing he hadn’t acknowledged the girls request and was just staring at her like a fucking creep, he grunted in answer and reached up to grab said cigarettes and added it to her bill. As he told her the new total he reached in front of the register and grabbed a lollipop before handing it to the little girl in front of him, taking pity on the mother as she struggled to keep a grip on her daughter.

                Distraction working like a charm, the little girl snatched the sucker from him and popped it into her mouth. After happily licking it for a few moments as her mom pulled some bills from her back pocket and set them on the counter with a look of gratitude sent his way, he found himself unable to look away from the light brown eyes that seemed to hold too much wisdom for her young age. She couldn’t be more than three, but she held his stare and grinned widely at him.

                “Hi!” She said around the candy, waving a bit at him.

                The corner of his mouth twitched, and he half waved back at her with one hand while the other gave her mother her change. “Heya.”

                “What’s your name?” The little girl asked curiously, tilting her head to the side like she found him to be the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.

                “Mickey.” He answered simply, one hand dropping to let his own daughter absently play with his fingers. “What’s yours?”

                “Marley. Lots of people have pretty blue eyes, but I like yours cause they’re pretty but sad like Mommy’s.”

                Eyebrows quirking at the strangely profound statement of the little girl her mother shrugged at him in ways of answer, like she was more than use to the intelligence of her daughter. He was a little shocked, and quite frankly was not looking forward to the innocent bluntness of toddlers when his girl got to that age.

                “She’s uh…” The mother started, but he held his hand up to show her no explanation was necessary. She smiled at him weakly, and it didn’t touch her eyes. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot even though she had her grocery bag in her hand, staring at him slightly. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

                Mickey hesitated for a moment, shifting a little awkwardly. He hated when people asked him this. Hated having to explain. Hated that it made him seem detached, like he didn’t care about the little shit.

                “Doesn’t have one yet.” He told the girl, waiting for the bewildered look he always got.

                “How old is she?”

                “Nine months.”

                “Nine months and you haven’t named her yet, what the fuck is wrong with you?” She scoffed, smirking disbelievingly at him with a little chuckle.

                That was when he decided he liked this girl. Not only did she have balls but she didn’t reprimand him like everyone else did, saying how cold it was to not name his girl. Like it was a form of child abuse or some shit. He just hadn’t thought of or found anything he felt suited her, didn’t want her saddled with some stupid name the rest of her life.

                Scowling anyways, Mickey motioned towards Marley. “Shouldn’t you be getting her to bed?”

                The girls eyes lowered to the ground a bit abashedly and her slender shoulders rose and fell again. “Can you point me in the direction of a decent hotel?”

                And of course he should have realized she wasn’t from around here. Didn’t have the Chicago drawl to her voice, didn’t have the South Side toughness in her eyes. He didn’t know why he did what he did next, maybe it was because he saw something of himself in her. That emptiness, like a piece of her was missing.

                Maybe she was half whole like he was, coasting through life for the girl in her arms.

                “No good hotels around here. You passing through or what?” He asked, trying to prod at her situation a bit more without making it obvious. Something about her just held his attention. He felt like there was a reason she was standing in front of him, like the world had brought her through the door from some kind of higher reason; not that he believed in that kind of shit, but still he couldn’t shake the feeling.

                “I don’t even know.” The honesty in her voice was raw, and she sounded like a lost little girl in a big world that wanted to eat her up.

                An idea sparked to life in his mind. It was the dark hair and the blue eyes that made his next words exit his mouth. She reminded him slightly of Mandy, and if his little sister was in some random town with a cute little girl attached to her he sure as hell would want someone to help her out. And he didn’t want anything happening to the sweet baby in her arms, either. Not to mention it would look good for his dad, save him from having to pick up some random skank and bribe her with speed so he didn’t have to actually fuck her this week to keep Terry off his back. “I have some room at my place if you’d want to, I don’t know crash until you figure it out.”

                Chocolate brown eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t even know my name much less seem like the type of guy to even consider something like that. And you’re gay, so I know you don’t want to get in my pants. What gives?”

                That’s what he got for trying to be a decent fucking human being. His mouth opened to snap at her that how the hell did she know what kind of guy he was, when her comment on his sexuality registered and his jaw dropped a bit before anger took over his features. Thankfully, no one else was in the store or his head might have exploded. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

                Sapphire eyes rolling, the girl switched Marley to her other hip before answering carefully, seeming to pick up on the fact that she’d offended him. “What, is it a secret? I’m sorry, my gaydar is insanely accurate. I just know these things. Secrets safe with me don’t worry.” Her eyes flickered to his daughter, like she wanted to ask about how he had a kid if he was gay but she wisely didn’t.

                For once in his life, Mickey was speechless. How the fuck did she know that? Did something like gaydar really fucking exist? Apparently. Here he thought he was so good at hiding and keeping up the image, and this girl waltzes in and within seconds sees right through him. Were other people able to do the same thing? How many people looked at him and knew instantly? She didn’t even seem to care in the slightest, like it was totally normal for a thug of Chicago South Side with tattooed knuckles and rough words to be a faggot with a nine month old kid working at a convenience store. Not only that, but she _apologized_ for calling him out as if she’d hurt his feelings.

                And it was probably that fact that tugged the next words from his mouth, because her ability to see through his façade and yet let him be reminded him of someone else that did the same. Or had used to, anyways.

                “What’s your name?” Mickey asked, rather than respond to her comment.

                “Brooklyn.”

                “That’s a fucking borough, not a name.” He sneered, one hand subconsciously reaching over to pull his daughter’s blanket up a little further on her. She was snoring happily, having dozed off at some point during his conversation with this strange girl.

                “Yeah, and Mickey is a fucking cartoon mouse, do you really wanna fucking get into this with me?”

                Fair enough.

* * *

 

                “So who does the meth I smell?” Brooklyn asked from her perch on the couch, feet curled under her as she sipped from the bottle of beer he’d handed her after she’d managed to get Marley to sleep in a makeshift bed next to his girls.

                “My dad.” He replied, no other explanation needed as far as he was concerned. He’d invited her to stay the night so she didn’t have to get raped trying to find somewhere to stay or have Marley kidnapped or something, not to poke into his personal life which she was trying really fucking hard to do anyways. The initial shyness he’d picked up from her seemed to be slowly fading and the more he tried to just be a dick and deflect her curiosity a small smile would just rise on her lips. Like she liked him even more for every asshole comment he made. What the hell was up with that?

                “Ah.”

                He didn’t miss the longing the sparked into her features for a second before she hid it quickly. He filed that information away, but let it drop for now. How they’d ended up sitting next to each other on the couch _talking_ over some beers and smokes was beyond him. Mickey hadn’t planned for this to happen or anything, but something in the brunette just struck something in him.  

                “Where you from, anyway?” He probed a little not because he cared to know or anything, just so she would get off of the subject of his life.

                “Seattle.”

                The look he gave her spoke volumes. “The fuck you doing here?”

                Her little shoulders shrugged as cerulean eyes fell to the floor, and he noticed how the skin seemed to stretch almost sickly over her collar bones. He wanted to go make her some food and shove it down her throat. It was disgusting, really. Skeletal.

                “My husband fucked off somewhere, no clue where. I haven’t heard from him in over a year.” The tone of her voice said there was more to the story, but fuck if he was gonna push her. It wasn’t any of his business if she didn’t feel like sharing. “I just kind of needed to get out, and ended up here. I don’t really have anywhere in particular to go; Marley’s all I really have now. So I guess I’m just kind of wandering until I find a reason to stick around somewhere.”

                And that was when the idea began formulating as his father’s words from months ago echoed in his thoughts.

                _“Don’t think you’re out of this just because that skank died, boy. You best go find yourself a new woman to settle down with.”_

                The more he thought about it, the better it seemed. What did he have to lose from it? She wasn’t half bad company, he’d only known her for a few hours but he was nothing if not good at reading people even if he didn’t usually care enough to assess what he saw. She clearly needed help with her daughter and, he could tell already, with herself. He needed his dad off his back, and persuading hookers and junkies with drugs to fake fuck him to placate Terry was getting really old.

                He’d punch anyone straight in the face that hinted he wasn’t a fully capable father by his damn self, but he supposed his girl could use some kind of good female influence in her life other than Mandy.

                Fuck it.

                The bright smiled she flashed at him when he suggested his idea to her made a warmth spread through him, and he decided he wanted to make that smile appear more often. He owed some good to the world after all the havoc he’d wrecked, after the wonderful person he’d all but destroyed-

                Shaking that train of thought off before it could get too gay for his liking he pulled out a joint from his cigarette pack and sparked it up, passing it to her after a minute. It seemed like she wanted to talk more, a look of concentration on her face, but exhaustion took over and before he knew it she was curling up asleep next to him, head lolling onto his shoulder.

                The dark haired boy studied her features unashamedly now, since she was unconscious. She really was a gorgeous girl, but there was darkness to her beauty. Like life had zapped some of it from her. Even gay he could still see that, could see how straight guys would most likely fall over her without much effort on her part. He wondered vaguely what had happened to her to make those bags under her eyes, and the despair show clearly in every line of her face when she wasn’t conscious to smooth it over.

                And why the fuck did he even care? He was only doing this because it was damn convenient, the world had quite literally just thrown the opportunity at him and fuck if he wasn’t going to take it.

                Sighing, he smoked one last cigarette and finished his beer before he hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders, carrying her to his bed and depositing her gently on the comforter. An urge rose in him, and for reason he couldn’t explain a hand reached out to brush the dark tendrils of hair off her face and a small smile flickered over her sleeping lips. His fingers retracted like he’d been burned, but he sat next to her on the bed before laying back.

                He didn’t even have enough time to think how funny it was that there was a woman in his bed and he _didn’t_ feel the need to grab the sleeping bag stashed under the mattress from when Lana had been around. The warmth radiating off of the brunette was actually slightly comforting, rather than repulsing. He found himself laying maybe an inch or two closer to her than was necessary, absorbing that heat and feeling his eyes slip closed before he could berate himself for being so impulsive these last few hours.

                Something told him he’d made the right decision, had taken the lemons and made fucking lemonade or whatever the fucking saying was.

                He just hoped this didn’t come back to bite him in the ass, like everything else seemed to. 

                                                          

* * *

 

                  _Cover up, cover up don’t let them see the real you_  
_Don’t question anything you do_  
_You have always kept it quiet_  
_But your conscience haunts you every time you choose_  
_Has anyone ever seen your real face?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went a little different from how I had initially planned, but I’m pretty happy with it. It’s going to be difficult and fun developing Mickey and Brooklyn’s little arrangement. Sorry if it seemed rushed, but I hope everyone likes it! Things will get more detailed soon as far as Mickey’s current life situation. Brooklyn is actually a character from some of my original work, but the idea to intersect her and Mickey’s heartbreak was irresistible. You’ll see why =] Anyways, feedback please! I tried my best to keep in character, let me know how I did please I would really appreciate any thoughts! Thanks for reading!


	2. My Bright Is Too Slight To Hold Back All My Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya again! Thanks for those lovelies who reviewed and are giving this a chance! You won’t be disappointed, I have serious plans for this fic. It’s mostly going to be Mickey’s POV, with a bit of Brooklyn’s and maybe Mandy’s here and there. Ian too, when he comes in. Unbeta'd as usual, sorry! So here’s chapter two! I couldn’t even get the first two pages written for the last week or so and then this lengthy monster just kind happened. Song inspiration is from ‘Jesus Christ’ by Brand New. You may have noticed I take the parts I want to out of the songs and ignore the ones that don’t fit. =]

 

 

_Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face_   
_The kind you'd find on someone I could save_   
_If they don't put me away_   
_Well, it'll be a miracle_   
_Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again_   
_So what did you do those three days you were dead?_   
_'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend_

* * *

 

                The front door slammed so violently the lamp beside his bed was fucking shaking.

                That was the first thing Mickey’s mind could register when his blurry eyes opened to focus as much as they could in the dim, bluish lighting of early dawn. The second thing he noticed was the girl fast asleep in his bed, her miniscule form curled into an almost ball and one arm thrown under the pillow to support her head. No one had been in his bed since Lana died, and he almost pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t an odd dream before the events of the previous night came back to him. Right. Poor lost little girls, he needed a cover for a little while, yada yada it all made sense again.  
                 
                Before he had time to think on that any more -or hell try to fall back asleep considering the alarm clock across the room was obnoxiously blinking 7:45 am at him- the sound of heavy footsteps leading towards his room echoed in the silent halls. His eyes rolled due to his never ending annoyance. Fuck having the only bathroom in the house connected to his room. Seriously, who fucking does that? He’d really like to have a word or two with the architect of the house. And by a word or two, he meant ‘FUCK U-UP’. His tattooed knuckles always spoke better for him than any words ever could.

                Only one person would be stomping through the house this early. He considered pretending to be sleeping and staying where he was. Brooklyn was still asleep with her back to him and Terry had seen nothing but that any time he’d come through the room for this exact reason previously, despite his attempt at forcing domesticity on Mickey. Gritting his teeth as his will bent to the will of his fathers, he seethed silently over the fact that he had to bend to _anyone’s_ will. Then his daughter’s scrunchy little face appeared in his mind’s eye and _fuck,_ he was doing this for her more than anyone. Taking a breath and hoping the girl wouldn’t sock him he rolled over, throwing his arm over Brooklyn’s tiny waist and tugged her flush against his front. Mickey’s chin tucked into her shoulder as he tried to prevent every muscle in his body from tensing, burying his nose in her dark hair.

                It smelled like fucking berries and Creamsicles.

                He didn’t have time to question who in the god damn world had hair that smelled like Creamsicles, Terry shoved the door to his room open and entered. The stench of stale beer, meth, sweat and just _filth_ radiated off of him and Mickey had to suppress a snort. And people thought _he_ was repulsing. Terry stood there for a moment seeming to suddenly realize Mickey wasn’t alone in the bed and he seemed ready to strike and pound faces in before he noticed the long, dark hair that was thankfully covering Mickey’s face from view. Brooklyn stirred and forced him to move his head as she lifted her neck while bleary sapphire eyes took in the man standing a few feet from them.

                 It was a whole two seconds before she lost interest and instead turned to face Mickey and snuggled in closer, throwing a leg over his and making it look even better than it already did. He squeezed the arms he had around her, head falling to rest on hers as Terry made a noise of approval and continued on his quest.

                They both lay silent and still until the bedroom door closed behind Terry. Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief, his arms loosening around the brunette as he murmured to her. “Nice touch.”

                He was just about to pull away from the girl, too much flesh on flesh contact for him, when it hit him that she hadn’t answered him and he glanced down. She was out again.

                A scoff of disbelief accompanied his headshake. Great, now he _had_ to sleep all smooshed up against her. He grumbled to himself, before settling down to try to fall into sleep again.

                And if he enjoyed the contact a little bit, well no one could fucking prove that.

                -----------------------

                “Mommy, mommy!” 

                That was the only warning he had, his eyes flicking open just in time to see a flash of a blue and purple nightgown before a tiny little body was wedging between them, jostling him to the side a bit.

                Brooklyn woke up, stretching a bit before taking her daughter into her arms. “What did I tell you about jumping on people especially when they’re sleeping?” She scolded, but with the soft smile on her face she might as well have not bothered. 

                Marley was now perched on Brooklyn’s ribs, chewing on her hair and staring thoughtfully down at Mickey who was attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Hi Mickey!”

                “Yo.”

                So he wasn’t a fucking ball of sunshine in the morning. As far as he was concerned, the little girl should be honored to have gotten anything but an irate grunt.

                Seeming totally unfazed by his disinterest, the toddler turned to her mother again. “I’m hungry!”

                Gently moving Marley’s weight to the bed instead of crushing her middle, Brooklyn sat up at the waist and rubbed her eyes. “Okay.” Her spine popped as she stretched out again, before remembering where she was and looking at Mickey.

                Groaning, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Alright, alright. I’ll get you food but don’t fuckin’ get used to it.”

                He didn’t see Brooklyn’s smile as he trudged towards the kitchen, changing course momentarily to check on his girl. Satisfied she was still sound asleep, he began banging around in the cabinets trying to find something Marley could eat. All they had was pretzels, pork grinds and a can of questionable little balls that once could have been almond clusters or something. Annoyed at the lack of options, he ripped the fridge door open and pulled out the eggs. Quickly scrambling them and cooking them, he grabbed a fork before making his way back to his room.

                “Here. Better like eggs.”

                The way those radiant eyes beamed at him told him she did, and he waved her away when she went to jump on him in thanks. He flopped back onto the bed, face in his pillows.

                “I would’ve gotten it if you’d just told me where.” Brooklyn informed him, curling her knees up to her chest and an amused smile flickering onto her lips as Marley shoveled the eggs into her mouth. “Child, chew your food!”

                Marley snickered and opened her mouth to show her mother her half chewed eggs. “SEAFOOD!”

                “It’s too early for this shit, is this what I have to look forward to?” The dark haired boy groaned, dreading when his girl grew into her terrible twos.

                The little girl only giggled, finishing her food and handing Brooklyn her plate. “Potty!” The brunette pointed in the direction of the bathroom, and Marley scampered in to do her business. Brooklyn leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Thanks for making her breakfast.”

                Mickey grunted in response, shrugging his shoulder a bit to knock her off. “Whatever.”

                Brooklyn just gave him that smile again, like she thought his sour demeanor was endearing. Instead of commenting though, she just shifted away from him to give him his space.

                 Mentally calculating, he figured he had about an hour or so before he had to go to work. Mandy was probably at school, she had taken up going to beauty school full time so she was there from nine to four every week day and she’d gotten a part time job at a salon in the North Side as a shampoo girl or something so she wouldn’t be home until much later. Ever since Ian had disappeared, she obsessively kept herself busy. After she’d graduated from high school (the first Milkovich to ever do so), she’d gotten a job at a fast food restaurant for about two weeks before some pissy customer got mouthy with her and she’d dumped his soda over his head and flung his food on the floor before storming out. Mandy had come home ranting about how she wasn’t dealing with shit jobs for the rest of her life and was going to actually do something with it.

                He was kind of proud, though he’d never tell her that.

                His sister hadn’t really forgiven him for the whole Ian thing. Not for fucking him behind her back, but rather chasing him away with his lack of whatever it had been Gallagher was searching for.

                And that was enough emo thoughts of the MIA redhead  for one day, so Mickey rolled out of his bed and told Brooklyn he was going to shower.

                Right before he was getting ready to walk out the door, he heard a cry from his girls’ room and detoured there. He lifted the squirming baby into his arms, bouncing her instinctively. “Hey now, knock that shit off.”

                The fat tears rolling down her cheeks stopped at his reprimand, and she fussed about grabbing onto his face. “Da!”

                A little smile tugged at his lips. Her first intelligent forming of words had been her attempt at calling him “Daddy” a few weeks ago, and it warmed him  a bit every time.

                “Go ahead, I’ll feed her.” Brooklyn told him, walking into the room to take the baby out of his arms. He hesitated; the only person other than himself that had ever held her was Mandy. Telling himself to stop being such a pussy, he gently handed her over to the girl.

                “Formula’s in the cabinet above the stove, baby food too.” He stated, figuring that she didn’t need a low down on the rest since she had a child of her own. The brunette nodded at him, a bright smile lighting up her face as she murmured down at the giggling baby in her arms.

                “Got it.”

                Mickey still didn’t move. Something didn’t sit right with him about just leaving Brooklyn here when his dad’s loud snores were filling the house. He didn’t know how Terry would react to her presence, but figured fuck it, he’d seemed pacified by her being in his bed so he’d probably just be happy she didn’t have a dick and call it a day. And he’d already told her about Mandy, so she wouldn’t be surprised if Mandy came home before he did. Hoping he wasn’t leaving her in danger, he moved to the hallway by the door as Brooklyn followed close behind.

                “I’m done at six. You got my number in case-“

                “Yes! Go to work!” Brooklyn growled, looking down at his girl and talking with that annoying tone people always used with babies that he wouldn’t be caught using in a million years. “Say, Daddy needs to stop being so worried and go to work right meow! Right meow!”

                Had she really just…? Mickey shook his head, calling her a freak and heading out the door to work.

                ----------------

                Brooklyn dutifully fed the baby girl, burping her over her shoulder as she handed Marley her phone to play angry birds to keep her occupied while she changed the baby’s diaper and found a cute little pastel green onesie to put her in that made the ice of her eyes stand out like crazy.  The little girl was just too damn cute, and though she predominantly saw Mickey in her she wondered about her mother.

                She had not been kidding about her gaydar, she’d just always been able to tell with one glance someone’s sexuality. But Mickey seemed pretty touchy about it, so she didn’t want to push. Figured she’d find out eventually. Glancing around the girls room, she took in the barren walls and general lack of life. Well she’d have to change that. Since she was going to be around indefinitely, she thought the least she could do was to brighten up the place since she already knew Mickey sure as hell wouldn’t. Not for the first time since the previous night, she wondered just what it was that made Mickey take her in because he did not seem like the type to help…well, anyone really. Not out of the goodness of his heart, anyways.

                The brunette busied herself for an hour or two grabbing the few boxes from the trunk of her car that contained her and Marley’s belongings, leaving hers and most of Marley's in a corner in Mickey’s room and bring a box or two or Marley's entertainment  in his daughters. She wasn’t sure if that was where Marley would be staying, but it got most of the boxes out of the way for now Marley immediately dug in one of them, ripping out her coloring books and beginning to scribble furiously.

                Around noon, the two older girls began getting hungry and Brooklyn went into the kitchen to find some food. She felt a little awkward just helping herself, but she’d already decided that when Mickey got home she was going to make him go grocery shopping and she was going to pick it all up. The last thing she was, was a freeloader. And he’d done her a favor beyond any favor anyone had ever done by allowing her into his home, so she figured it was the least she could do.

                Upon opening the fridge, her jaw dropped a little. Didn’t four people – even if one was a baby who didn’t eat too much solid food yet- live here? How was it even remotely possible that all these people survived on was Pabst Blue Ribbon, some eggs, a carton of milk that smelled like a dead body was in it and some rotten apples? The freezer wasn’t much better, holding only a lonesome Hot Pocket and some ice cubes. She checked the cabinets, only coming across some chips, a box of Cheerio’s with ‘ ** _MY KIDS- DON’T FUCKING TOUCH’_** labeled in big black letters across the whole front – that made her smile- and a box of what maybe once was nuts but she wasn’t going to touch with a ten foot pole. Sighing, she gave up and decided that she’d just go shopping while Mickey was at work. Calling out to her daughter and telling her to put her coat on, she crept past the sleeping form of Terry Milkovich to Mickey’s room and dug through her clothes. She changed her undergarments quickly, throwing the soiled clothes back into the box and yanking on a pair of clean dark denim shorts and an army green camouflage tank top quickly, pulling on her Doc Marten spiked sandals as she headed back to the baby Milkovich’s room. Cradling the baby in her arms, she grabbed her purse and the car seat that was in the corner of the room and headed quietly out the door with Marley on her heels.

                ----------

                Since it was the middle of June, the sun beat down a little bit more than comfortably as Brooklyn quickly unloaded all the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and Marley helped by carrying a few of the lighter ones. She placed the baby in a little walker by her feet so she wouldn’t cry about being alone in her room, and Marley sat cross legged next to the little girl and began sticking her fingers into her own mouth and pulling her face at odd angles to make distorted expressions at her. The baby thought it was hilarious to reach out and tug on Marley’s hair, the older child’s protests and whines only fueling her amusement.

                Brooklyn chuckled at the interaction, noting that the baby was already a little trouble maker. Marley was a big girl, she'd be three in October and even though she complained the baby wasn’t really hurting her more so just getting on her nerves so the brunette went about her business trying to quickly put away the groceries so she could hang up the decorations she’d bought for the baby’s room before Mickey got home. It was already close to five and Mickey was due back shortly after six so time was of the essence. She snickered, remembering the text she’d gotten about an ten minutes ago, ‘just to make sure his kid was still alive and she wasn’t some psychopath that took off with his baby.’ So she’d sent him a picture of the adorable scene of Marley sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, helping the baby shove little shapes through the correct slots in her walker and figured that was answer enough. She clicked ‘save’, because that picture was too cute.

                Lost in her mission of stocking the Milkovich house with actual food –she hadn’t gotten anything fancy, just some snacks, fruit and vegetables and a few key ingredients to make dinner for the next few nights- she didn’t notice the large figure standing a few feet behind her. She was bent at the waist, putting boxes of noodles and various sauces to eat them with in a cupboard next to the stove when a rough voice behind her made her jump to attention.

                “What are you doing, girl?”

                Spinning to face the speaker, Brooklyn looked up into the cold eyes of Terry Milkovich. He towered over her from about five feet away, clad in only a grimy gray wife beater and his boxers. Her skin prickled at the sight of him, an uneasy feeling settling into her bones. She’d been too out of it this morning to notice the air of pure hatred and danger that exuded from him, and he’d been asleep when she was at her full consciousness earlier.

                She sure as shit felt it now and fought back a shudder, choosing to smile at him. Kill ‘em with kindness, right? “I um, went food shopping.” Her eyes flickered to Marley, shooting her a warning with her eyes to remain still and quiet. Terry obviously would have seen her, but she didn’t want any of the man’s attention drawn to the children except that which was strictly necessary.

                The way his eyes took in every inch of her body as he fully assessed her in the light of day was insanely creepy and made gooseflesh rise, but she forced the fake smile to stay firmly planted on her lips and the syrupy sweetness to remain in her voice. “I was going to start dinner soon if you’re hungry, Mickey should be home soon.”

                His eyebrow quirked as he reached a hand into his waistband to scratch his balls. “Hope you don’t expect any fucking money for that crap.” The man grabbed a warm, unopened beer that was on the counter and popped it, chugging it almost in one big gulp.

                Fighting the urge to curl her lip in disgust or roll her eyes she waved a hand in a way that said ‘yeah right’ and went back to putting things away, opening the freezer to place the meat and frozen foods she’d purchased in there neatly. The brunette made a mental note to get some better beer. She expected Terry to lose interest in her, but still felt his presence behind her.

                “You fucking my son?”

                She spun around again, slowly this time, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Yup.” She answered, locking eyes with him and her voice unwavering even through her lie. Despite the vibes she was sure he constantly gave off, she was afraid of no one. There was a difference between being aware, and being afraid.

                Terry grunted, nodding and muttering ‘good’ under his breath before going back to the couch and throwing his weight onto it to crash once more. Quickly finishing putting all the food away, she shooed Marley into the baby’s bedroom and picked the little rascal up, bouncing her on her hip and pulling the other large bags in with her. She snatched a banana too, in case Marley or the baby got hungry. Easy smooshable for the infant, swallow-whole-able for the toddler.

                Throwing some pieces of construction paper, safety scissors and glue at her daughter to keep her occupied, she closed the door behind her as she laid the baby down in her crib. Brooklyn pulled her phone out of her back pocket, turning on some music to drown out the obnoxious snores coming from the living room before pulling out her purchases and setting to work.

                ------------------

                Mickey made it home five minutes faster than his usual time. For the last few hours, anxiety had been churning in his gut and no matter how many cigarettes he smoked it didn’t lessen. The picture of the two little girls playing Brooklyn had sent him had calmed it for about ten minutes, but it had come rushing right back full force after not too long.

                He didn’t like being away from his girl for so long, even if he knew she was in good hands. As much as she little one was a constant reminder of how his life had changed, she was also a distraction from the thoughts of green eyes and freckles that inevitably plagued his mind no matter how he tried to expel them. Visions of pale skin and hard muscles, haunting sounds of “ _Don’t do this_ ,..” and passion filled moans filling up his mind. That frustrating ache bubbling in him when he had nothing to focus on, the yearning sometimes hitting him so powerfully it hurt when he had to step into the freezer.

                 His feet led up the steps, turning his neck to the side to crack it swiftly before pushing the front door open. Ice blue surveyed the scene in front of him, and when he saw no one but his dad assed out on the couch his heart sped up a bit. Brooklyn’s car was out front, so they had to be here. That was when the music floating from his daughter’s room made itself apparent, and he let out the tense breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. As he made his way to the fridge to grab a beer to calm his still slightly frayed nerves he berated himself for being such a pussy all day when he froze.

                The fridge was full of food. Real food, not the cheap generic shit that filled the shelves when it was actually there.

                His whole life he didn’t think he’d ever seen that much food in his house. Incredulous, he yanked open all the cabinets and peered inside only to be met with the same sight.

                Gritting his teeth against the flush of anger that coursed through him, he stomped over to his girls room and all but threw the door open. Opening his mouth to ask her just what the fuck she was playing at, his jaw dropped open in shock as he took in the sight of the room.

                It had previously been Iggy’s, and when Iggy got locked up for 5 years minimum a few months ago he’d moved the crib from his room to there. She was too young to be bothered by the cigarette burns in the carpet or the holes in the walls, the flickering overhead light.

                If he didn’t know any better he’d be sure he wasn’t even standing in that same room. The walls were splattered in big colorful stick ons, butterflies and fairies and flowers and all that girly stuff. Conveniently placed to covered aforementioned holes, a large roll up lavender rug thrown over the floor to do the same to it. There was a bunch of toys on the floor that hadn’t been there before, and new mural to replace the old worn out one hung above the crib. There was more, but his brain short circuited as he looked at the brunette, furious.

                “What the hell are you doing?! We’re not a fucking charity case!” He snarled, stalking over to stand beside her. He couldn’t help that his eyes flickered down to his girl, looking away when he was satisfied that she was exactly how he’d left her except he was pretty sure the cute little outfit she was wearing was new but his brain couldn’t even handle that right now.

                “Calm your tits! I know that, but I wanted to repay you for letting me stay here and her room was just so blah I just-“

                “Not all of us can afford nor need this shit,” He snapped, hostility tainting his voice. It pissed him off severely, her spending money on all this shit. How did she even have money like that, he wondered?

                “Will you chill out? It’s not an issue for me and I was trying to not only do something nice for you, but for her too! Ya prick!” She retorted, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips in such a cliché vision of a pissy woman it was almost comical. “Besides, other than this I just got food! Jesus. Get over it. Do you fucking feed yourself at all or just your kid?”

                Mickey scoffed, looking her up and down and using his hand to motion at all of her. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, Twiggy?!”

                “Hey! I’m a small person okay?! I was much smaller before Marley, I just look unhealthy now because my hips and tits got bigger so when I lose a bit of weight it’s more noticeable.” She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

                Right. He was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that her appetite had disappeared when she’d been left behind. Like his had. Shaking that thought right the fuck out of his head, he growled at her. “Whatever! You shouldn’t have done this!”

                “It’s keeping my mind off shit, okay?!” She burst out, her wide cerulean eyes glaring daggers at him before turning away to stomp over to the crib. All she did was readjust the thankfully still sleeping baby’s blankets just to keep her hands busy so he didn’t notice them shaking.

                Which he did, anyways.

                And try as he might to hold onto his previous anger, he felt it dissipate little by little until it completely disappeared. He could understand that. So instead of responding, he told her to come to his room when she was done. He wanted to hold his daughter for a little since he’d missed her all day, but didn’t want to wake her. Once in his room, he pulled out the box under his bed and began rolling up a joint.

                At least he could do that for her, if she was going to go all Oprah on him even if he was still a little pissed about it.  A few minutes later, Brooklyn entered his room and hesitantly sat beside him on the bed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

                “I just don’t take well to people doing shit for me, okay?” Mickey told her, licking the paper and closing the joint. Twisting one end and popping it in his mouth, he effortlessly lit it and took a deep drag before passing it to her.

                “We’re gonna have some problems then because I’m a giving type of gal.” She teased, taking the offered joint.

                He smirked, opening his mouth to tell her that they sure as hell were when he realized what she was wearing and he froze. The camo shirt was an eyesore, and he clenched his jaw against the earlier thoughts that were trying to flood his mind again. “Change your shirt.”

                Brows furrowing in confusion, she tilted her head and seemed like she wanted to question him as to why but decided against it and simply handed him back the joint and moved to a corner of his room. Reaching down, she grabbed a simple electric blue wife beater and changed. He didn’t bother looking away, it wasn’t like he was checking her out and it wasn’t like she was making an attempt to hide herself from him so as far as he was concerned it didn’t matter. She joined him once more, taking the joint back.

                “That all your shit?” He questioned, motioning to the boxes.

                “Yeah…I just wanted to get it out of my car. It’s all Marley’s stuff, too. I know she’s sleeping in your daughters room but I didn’t want to put her stuff in there. We’ll figure out a living situation soon, I was looking at apartment listings today and-“

                Mickey had quirked an eyebrow at first, finding it amusing that she would go buy all that stuff but feel like she wasn’t entitled to putting her own daughters stuff in there. And fuck, he was already starting to get a soft spot for her and Marley because when he pictured them getting their own place in shitty Southside he shook his head and cut her off. “Move Marley’s stuff into my girls room. We’ll get her a bed soon. Those drawers are empty, feel free.” Gesturing to the dresser across from the bed with his free hand, he sucked the last of the life out of the joint before putting it in the ash tray and lighting two cigarettes, handing one her to which she willingly took.

                She didn’t say anything, lowering her eyes and reaching over to squeeze his knee gently but he didn’t miss the tears of gratitude that shone in her eyes. Even if she could afford it and could take care of herself, he had a powerful gut feeling that she didn’t want to be alone.

                -----------------------

                The next two months passed in a comfortable routine of Mickey working and Brooklyn staying home with the kids. It was nice, because he got more work done when he didn’t have to constantly soothe his daughter, and Linda bitched less. Brook didn’t push for information as to why Mickey was the way he was, but she was a smart, creepily observant girl and put some pieces together with the way he reacted to certain things. Like the camo shirt he’d told her to take off, which she hadn’t worn again since then. He could see a light go on in her eyes when she gathered another piece, but she rarely said anything. One night when they were extra drunk, she’d managed to get out of him a little about Ian, like how he’d left and was in fact a soldier but that was all Mickey would share. When she asked him how long they’d been together, he shrugged and told her they weren’t really together but they fucked like rabbits on and off for about two and a half years. She just rolled her eyes at his attempt of making it seem like no big deal, like she saw right through him. 

                He also learned more about her. Like she’d grown up bouncing back and forth between Los Angeles and Seattle, and her mother was a fucking cunt but she adored her father. . She would speak about her husband, Marik, here and there when she wasn’t sober but other than that she liked to keep it locked up tight inside of her for the most part. He couldn’t blame her, he more than anyone understood the brutal pain that shone in her eyes whenever it got brought up. One night he’d asked her why the fuck she wasn’t in Seattle anyways, since she’d spoken of a brother that was basically a best friend and some friends he could see the fondness she held for expressed in her face. She’d shut down emotionally, but had told him that everyone had just gotten sick of her being unable to shake the funk she was in since Marik had left. He didn’t bring it up again, not liking that he’d unintentionally stirred those negative thoughts in her.

                 She enjoyed doing hair and makeup- and a whole shit ton of other crafty, creative stuff- even if she didn’t have any need to work. She wouldn't go into detail about it, but he gathered that she came from a bit of money though you never expect it from her personality. She was the farthest thing from a spoiled princess. He also thought that her husband had some money too, and had left a big chunk of it to her and Marley after he’d taken off. She bought stuff so he didn't have to, like baby food and diapers and clothes since the little Milkovich was growing so quickly Mickey could barely believe it. She also got cartons of cigarettes for them to split – they both smoked Marlboro Reds, fittingly enough- and when their stash of alcohol diminished, she’d just replace it. She continued to decorate the girls’ room, getting childish paintings for the walls, a TV for them to watch cartoons in the mornings and these real bright paper lanterns in all different colors. She hung them from the ceiling, and had a step stool stashed in the closet that she’d pull out every night when they tucked the girls in and would ask them, “What color do you want tonight?” since the glow would cast different hues depending on the color of the lantern lit. She even got a king sized bed for Mickey’s room for the nights he was extra moody and wanted space to himself. Mickey still had his pride and didn’t take handouts, but he wasn't going to complain about it when his daughter was better for it. And the bed, smokes and liquor didn’t count as far as he was concerned since it benefitted Brooklyn too.

                The girl fit right into their household, with her combat boots and no bullshit attitude. She was sweet and good to her core, but she wasn’t one to take other peoples shit either and they butted heads quite often because of it because she especially didn’t take any of Mickey’s shit. Terry seemed to like her well enough from the interactions they’d had, but Brooklyn didn’t like the way Terry treated others, especially Mickey, so she avoided him when she could like the rest of them did.

                Mickey had grown to absolutely adore Marley, though he worried that her natural mischievousness and sometimes cocky attitude was going to get her and his daughter into trouble but he was kidding himself if he thought his kid would be any different.

                Brooklyn and Mandy got along so well it was scary, since she was a licensed cosmetologist and helped Mandy out with school. He’d come home from work and they’d be engrossed in looking at pictures on the computer Mandy had saved up and bought for school, sharing thoughts and opinions on who knows what and the floor covered in cosmetics and hair shit as they took turns doing each other up.

                Mickey was relieved Mandy had found a new friend, and that she didn’t seem to be so distant from him anymore either. Sometimes, they’d lock themselves in the bathroom and the stench of hair color would over power the usual musky Milkovich house scent for hours while they did crazy things to each others hair. Mandy had decided she wanted to be a redhead and colored her hair an intense burgundy, and even Mickey had to admit it looked wonderful. Brooklyn had coaxed Mandy out of her fear of using hair bleach (apparently the shit was really complicated) and had her bleach the bottom half of her chocolate hair and the put electric blue fading into teal in it in some technique they’d called ‘ombre’. While they did this, Mickey watched The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids to keep them out of the ladies’ hair, no pun intended.. Mickey thought that looked pretty fucking cool, too and had thanked her quietly that night for helping his sister. She brushed it off like it was nothing, which he’d come to learn with her that it truly was just in her nature.

                 That same night, they sat down facing each other on the bed with their lists and a six pack of beer. His daughter still remained nameless, and it was getting a bit ridiculous at this point considering she would be a year old next week. They’d thrown a few ideas back and forth over the weeks but nothing had seemed right. He wanted something unique and different but still meaningful. He was leaning towards bad ass chicks from anything he’d ever liked but was trying to not make it obvious, and she seemed to be doing the same but not really caring about being obvious..

                With a cigarette dangling from her mouth, Brook reached up and tied her mess of dark brown and blue hair into a messy bun on the top of her head before taking the butt between her fingers and holding a pen in her other hand in ready. “How about Lizbeth?”

                “What is that from?” He asked, brow furrowing as he tried to recall.

                “What! The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo! She’s a total bad ass, you’d love her!”

                “Nah. Too plain,” Mickey answered, though made a mental note to watch it as he saw her cross it off. “Lora?”

                “As in Lora Croft?” She exhaled smoke with her words, and Mickey nodded. “No way, she’s a whore. There was that cheat code where you could make her naked the whole game, you want your daughter associated with that? How about Trinity?”

                Mickey tilted his head to the side and nodded a bit in consent to her first question, hell no he didn’t want his daughter having _any_ kind of predisposition to becoming promiscuous. He was sure he was going to end up in jail at some point from beating some douche bags face in inevitably, but the less provocation the better. Then the latter of her words hit him and his eyes rolled. “This isn’t the fucking Matrix, Brook. Rogue?”

                “Do you want her to get terrorized her whole life?”

                “Right, like she wouldn’t with _Trinity?!”_

                “Ugh,” Brooklyn groaned, snuffing her cigarette in the ash tray right as he lit one. “Buffy?”

                “Why don’t we just fucking name her Xena The Warrior Princess?” Mickey retorted, scoffing incredulously.

                Brooklyn opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but then paused and nodded. “Point taken. Willow?”

                That name actually wasn’t all that bad, he sort of liked it but he just couldn’t do it. “What am I, a billionare celebrity? I’m not naming her after a tree, or a fruit, or any shit like that. Also, pussy power names much?” He remember some idiot had named their kid Apple. Cause that poor child wasn’t going to get bullied to hell, or anything. “How about Maryjane or Gwen?”

                “You wanted something out of the ordinary and kick ass, shithead. No, no fucking Spiderman names! _Comic nerd names much?!_ ”

                “Hey, Spiderman is the shit, you bitch.”

                Undeterred, Brooklyn looked at the next on her list after sipping from her beer. “Faye?”

                “What the fuck kind of name is that? Hell no!”

                “Cowboy Bebop reference, duh!” As if him not knowing what she was talking about was absurd she shook her head in disappointment. “Isabella?”

                “No way. Not naming my daughter after some prissy ass sparkling vampire.” He hated that he even knew that.

 He still wanted to strangle Mandy and Brook for forcing him to watch that movie.

                “HEY! That’s my daughters middle name, fuckwad!” Brooklyn glared at him and man, if looks could kill.

                “Shut up. That was before that shit so it doesn’t count.”

                “Fair enough.” Brooklyn relented, her glare letting up as she flopped onto her back on the bed. “Dammit! We’ve gotta figure this out or at least think of _something_ to call her in the mean time!”

                They discussed it for a little while, debating over nicknames that were either too faggy or too bland for his tastes. Brooklyn suggested ‘Firecracker’ as a joke since his daughter was exactly that, stubborn fiery little thing, but he immediately shot that down because that was just too close to Firecrotch for his liking. They sat in silence for a bit before Brooklyn sat up. “Have you ever heard of Kali the Destroyer?”

                “No.” He snorted, looking at her like why in the hell would he ever have?

                “She’s this bad ass goddess that always reminds me of karma and life and death and shit. And baby Milkovich does like to destroy things. The Little Destroyer!” She suggested, grinning happily.

                “This would be so much easier if she was a dude,” He complained, and when Brook wouldn’t stop bitching in his ear for ten minutes about how she’d _finally_ come up with something halfway decent, he relented figuring it would be temporary anyways. “FINE! Her birthday is next week, we gotta figure something out by then regardless so you fucking win.”

                She punched his should triumphantly, before bringing her knees up a bit and resting her elbows on them. The black and white art on her knees drew his attention, and the question he’d been wanting to ask was on the tip of his tongue. He’d seen every tattoo she had, and had gotten an explanation for every one except the two on her thighs. There was a giant Tree of Life on her left side, winding from under her breasts and down her ribs to end at the dip in her lower back with the lyircs “Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.” He’d teased her mercilessly, repeatedly asking her if she liked Bob Marley or not until she finally snapped and told him to shut the fuck up, her daughters name was awesome and he obviously liked him too if he recognized the lyrics.

                That shut him up real fast.

                The half sleeve on her right shoulder was the one that stood out the most, something she called Nightmares In Wonderland. It was an Alice in Wonderland scene, with all the bright trippy colors but they’d been replaced with Nightmare Before Christmas characters and even Mickey had to admit it was insanely awesome. Dainty half cursive words ran across her left collarbone, spelling out ‘It can’t rain all the time’; when he’d questioned it, because he knew it was a quote from the Crow but wondered what it’s significance to her was, she’d told him in was her best friend Kylie’s handwriting. It had been their motto, and she’d never been happier that she’d gotten it than she was when Kylie passed away when she was eighteen. She wouldn’t share anymore than that on the subject.

                “What are those for?” He asked, motioning to the large greyscale pieces on each of her thighs. One her left, there was a portrait of Cinderella from the waist up in a large frame with vines wrapping around it. A banner went across the bottom, saying ‘A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes’ as Cinderella was half beautiful princess, half zombie and held her own heart in her hand, blood dripping from her mouth. The other was essentially the same, only it was Ariel and instead of vines wrapping around the frame it was hands that looked like they belonged on corpses reaching out and the banner across the bottom read ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’.

                Obviously, the brunette had a thing for Disney,

                She sighed, as really not wanting to talk about it but squared her shoulders and answered him. “I got the Cinderella after Marley was born, for her. I always wanted a daughter, and as it turns out I can’t have anymore kids so she was like my dream come true.” She paused, hesitating as she lit up another cigarette and sucked on it desperately.

                “And the mermaid?” He pushed gently, not wanting her to close off.

                Her lips tightened before she spoke. “I got that after Marik left.”

                That was really all the explanation he needed, and he nodded and accepted the cigarette when she handed it to him to hop onto the floor and starting packing the bong. All this talk about tattoos recently had made him start itching for a new one, but he wasn’t sure what he’d get so he didn’t bring it up. They sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying not being totally alone as the marijuana smoke burned their lungs, reminding them that they were still alive despite how empty they sometimes felt. As they’d both learned over the last two months, living in the murky waters of misery was a little bit easier when you have someone wallowing next to you, keeping you just barely above the surface.

* * *

 

 

_Do I divide and fall apart?_   
_'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark_   
_And the ship went down in sight of land_   
_I know you're coming in the night like a thief_   
_But I've had some time to hone my lying technique_   
_I know you think that I'm someone you can trust_   
_But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up_   
_So do you think that we could work out a sign_   
_So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long one! Feedback is always appreciated, I love to know what you guys are thinking! =]


	3. When You're Living In A World Without The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy busy yada yada, insert lots of excuses. Notes at the end. Enjoy! =]
> 
> Disclaimer;; I don't own "Makeshift Chemistry", Crown the Empire does.

_A lesson learned is easier said than done_  
 _When you’re living in a world without the sun_  
 _My mind is struggling to remember_  
 _I wish I could find a way_  
 _To make up for all I’ve done_  
 _I know the choice was mine,_  
 _But can you blame me?_  
 _The choice was all mine but I never thought that I’d be the last man standing alone_

* * *

            “PLAY TICK TACK TOE WITH ME!” Marley pouted, stomping her foot down like the child she was and turning her big puppy dog eyes on the man standing before her. Her fingers curled into the leg of his pants, tugging insistently as if annoying the shit out of him would help her case.

            “Can you stop your damn whining for five seconds?” Mickey retorted, leaning one shoulder against the door frame as his arms crossed his chest and surveyed the scene in front of him. He’d just gotten home from work, and after grabbing his usual after shift beer from the fridge he checked on the girls. His daughter was off in lala land by herself in the corner of the room. Brooklyn, Mandy and Marley were sitting in the middle of the room by the crib in a circle of half scribbled pictures ripped out from coloring books, a mess of crayons, art supplies and what Mickey was pretty sure looked like an attempt at a construction paper doll. When the toddler pulled harder on his leg, his eyes rolled and shifted down to meet hers. “Make your mom play with you.”

                “She lets me win every time, it sucks!” Marley complained, her face falling into a scowl as she mimicked his crossed arms.

                “Marley!” Brooklyn scolded, but her eyes rolled too as if she wasn’t surprised in the least.

                “She doesn’t let you, _she_ just sucks.” Mandy corrected, dodging the stuffed bear Brooklyn chucked at her head as she laughed.

                “Fuck ALL of you, okay?” Brooklyn grumbled, pulling the picture of Scooby Doo she was currently coloring closer and filling in his collar. She’d long since given up watching her language in front of the kids, considering Marley already had a mini sailors vocabulary on her and Mickey’s daughter, well she was a _Milkovich_ so having a filthy mouth not only came with the genetics but was also the least of the future problems the kid could have. And it wasn’t like Mickey and Mandy made the slightest attempt to watch their mouths either.

                The corner of Mickey’s lip quirked into a smirk, before he huffed in exasperation as the little girl wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. “Jesus, fine!” Marley’s face lit up as she clutched his fingers and pulled him into the room as he wondered to himself when did his life become this? There was _way_ too much estrogen suffocating him all the time.

                And then Marley turned to him with this big goofy smile on her face, holding out a piece of paper and a crayon like it was fucking gold just in time to remind Mickey knew when his life had become this. As soon as he had a kid that looked at him that same way. Not that he was going to start cooing at every baby he saw, but he liked his kid. And he liked Marley.

                He sank to the ground next to Brooklyn and watched Marley set up the game, absently knocking the end of the crayon she was nibbling on out of her reach before his eyes moved back to his girl. She was about ten feet away from them all, holding herself up on those miniscule feet and staring in awe at the stand they’d found that was supposed to help her brain develop or something. It had blocks that moved, geometrical cut outs that she was supposed to put the correct shapes in, and buttons that sang to her when she pushed them.

                Which she didn’t. Once she’d hit them on accident and had spent the entirety of the song slamming her hands on it like she found it just at irritating as Mickey did. She’d been pulling herself up to stand quite often lately, and it was making Mickey uncomfortable how quickly she was growing. Two months ago she’d barely been able to say ‘da’ or lift herself off the ground. Now, she happily shouted “Dada!” and mimicked other small words she could grasp as loud as she could and being on her feet most of the day even if she had to clutch onto something to do it. She’d also learned how to properly use the word “no”, which was already turning out to be a disaster.

                The little monster hadn’t even noticed him walk in she seemed so concentrated on pushing the shapes into their appropriate holes so he let her be and averted his attention back to Marley as she huffed impatiently at him.

                “Mickey, come on!”

                “Calm down, brat.” He reached for the crayon- feeling absolutely ridiculous for the millionth time holding a crayon in his grown ass man hand- drawing an ‘X’ right in the middle. Mandy and Brooklyn continued coloring mindlessly, chatting a bit about some girly nonsense all the while.

                Brooklyn finished hers, ripped it out of the coloring book to throw it in the pile of the other completed works of child art while she glanced up to instinctively check on the children. Marley was happily telling a glowering Mickey that she won. Smiling, she looked to the other little girl in the room and let out a gasp.

                “Mickey!” Reaching out and spastically smacking his arm before grabbing him by the elbow, she stared in wonder, afraid to speak any more. Mandy noticed too, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent from making a sound and holding stock still.

                Mickey opened his mouth to tell her to get the fuck off of him – he still didn’t like being touched, and even if he slept a little closer to her at night than he’d like to admit so fucking what didn’t mean he was turning over a new leaf or anything- but the complaint at her sudden touch died in his throat as he lifted his gaze and saw his daughter hesitantly take a step away from the stand that was supporting her. She seemed to be going in the direction of the circle shape that she’d dropped about four feet away. After the first shaky step she took two more.

                “What? So she’s finally walking, big fucking deal. Now we’ll have another terror to chase around.” Mickey shrugged nonchalantly when Brook looked at him like he’d lost his mind, playing it off like no big deal. Inside, he was swelling with pride and as much as he fought it a small grin broke through. That was his girl. Marley stuck her tongue out at him, understanding the jibe and he laughed a bit at her fake sad face.

                Everyone was watching the almost one year old, waiting to see if she’d take another step. Her glacier eyes rose to lock on her father’s matching ones, making sure she had his full attention as she took another unstable step. That was as far as her Milkovich will power was going to get her today it seemed as her legs gave out from beneath her. Mickey wasn’t one of those parents that panicked at every bump or scratch. Maybe when she’d first been born, and he’d been afraid to even hold her without breaking her he was. Like his touch could shatter her fragile little body if he so much as breathed on her the wrong way. But then again, it seemed he destroyed everything he touched so that wasn’t really an out of place feeling for him. So now, when she stumbled and fell he ignored the slight flare of panic because if he freaked out every time that child was clumsy he was going to need some medication. By now he was pretty sure he knew when she was in real trouble. She had also learned that if anyone got angry with her, she could pretend she hurt herself and cry and almost instantly have everyone doting over her. Mickey had caught on to that pretty fast, and now he knew better than to play into it. Mostly.

                Brooklyn ran to her though. The brunette was used to Marley being a klutz but she still got slightly frightened over his girl sometimes. Hoisting the baby into her arms, Brooklyn practically beamed at her and spun her in a circle. “Good girl!

                Mandy rose to her feet as well, her dark ponytail swishing behind her as she came over and rubbed the baby’s head. “Ice cream for you tonight!” The girl reached ecstatically for Mandy as she basked in the praise, who took her willingly and held her close to snuggle her a little. Mickey found it kind of disgusting how openly affectionate Mandy had become with the baby. It was making them look bad. Then again, he couldn’t really talk. He’d become softer than he could stand because of his fondness for the tiny life of his. No one else really got that gentleness, but she was his fucking daughter and he could love her if he wanted to.

                “You guys should go out tonight to celebrate! I have to go into school crack early tomorrow, so I can watch the kiddos. Go get fucked up.” Mandy grinned, burbling at the baby who was tugging on her crimson hair. Mandy winced and pulled it out of her grip, which made the little one tug on her earrings instead and Mickey smirked. Was it sick that he enjoyed watching her grow to find enjoyment in other’s misfortune? She truly was his child.

                When his sister’s words registered, he stared at her. He hadn’t ‘gone out’ since before his daughter had been born. Sure, they all got fucked up at the house sometimes when the kids were asleep but that was about as far as it went. He hadn’t gone to a bar, gotten high under the El or shit, even punched someone in the face since he couldn’t even remember when. “Why the hell would we do that?”

                “Your daughter, who is STILL nameless by the way, just took her first steps assface! Go celebrate or something, get out of this hell for a night.”

                “Yeah, I know she’s still nameless, slut. Why the fuck would I want to go _out_ to celebrate that?!”

                After another ten minutes of the siblings going back and forth with snide comments and name calling- Brooklyn had extracted the baby from Mandy when she’d lurched towards Mickey to dig her bitten fingernails into the pressure point in his neck while he’d shouted and twisted her tit so hard tears formed in her eyes; Marley and the baby Milkovich laughed the whole time- Mickey finally relented, grumbling about how he didn’t know why it was so important to Mandy anyways and he was fucking going okay so shut the fuck up already.

                Brooklyn had run into their- whoa, when did it become _their_ room they weren’t even a couple for Christs sake- to change and fix herself up a bit. Of course she hadn’t gone out in a very long time so that meant she had to put a slight effort into her appearance just for the hell out of it and because she was such a _girl_. He hadn’t bothered cleaning up, just changed his shirt from the one he’d worn to work to his light blue tank top before leaving Brook to her whatever the hell she did.

                Now that no one was paying attention to his girl he scooped her up. Mandy was actively watching her but she was preoccupied with Marley hiding in closets and trying to climb into the cupboards shouting “YOU CAN’T FIND ME”, laughing and chasing after the toddler. Resting her on his side, he ducked his head back when she tried to grab his hair. “Ah-ah-ah, my Little Destroyer that shit hurts.”

                Instead of acknowledging his words her head fell forward to bite his shoulder. “Ow! Knock it off, brat!” He cursed, switching her to the other side and reprimanding her with a look. She just laughed in his face, reaching out and touching his cheek in what he was _sure_ was supposed to be a caring way but ended up being a bitch slap. He bounced her with a bit more force than necessary, and she just cracked up like him trying to scold her was the funniest thing ever.

                It probably was.

                “D’ya miss me?” Her bright smile was all the answer he needed, as she nudged her nose into his cheek and nuzzled a bit. He may have returned the gesture. “Yeah, me too.”

                Mickey was trying to figure out a way to say goodnight to her without her going ape shit. She’d developed a bit of a temper over the last few weeks, refusing to listen unless it suited her. It was hell trying to wean her off her bottle; she’d grown freakily attached to that particular method of feeding. Brooklyn figured it probably had something to do with the fact that she’d never gotten breastfed and it satisfied something in her nothing else could. Mickey thought that was fucking weird but had to admit it made sense.

                Any time he had to leave, mostly to go to work, she lost her mind as if he was never coming back. No words, toys, bribe or distraction could sate her.  She just screamed her head off until she wore herself out. Mini tantrums were thrown for other reasons on almost a daily basis, when Mandy or Brook left for some reason, but when he left all hell broke loose. And she had extra energy today since he’d managed to slip out this morning before she’d woken up.

                “Now listen…” He started, free hand coming up to wrap around the middle of her back in preparation for her tantrum. Why beat around the bush? He was her father and she was going to learn to listen to him whether she liked it or not. She was lucky he would rather throw himself under a bus than ever hurt her, because he would’ve gotten his skull crushed in as a child if he’d carried on the way she did. “Me and Brook are going out for a bit, Aunt Mandy will be here with you and Marley. Got it?”

                “No!” The dark haired child pouted, crossing her arms and staring him down in determination. “Dada! No!”

                A sigh of annoyance left his lips as he looked to the ceiling briefly before meeting his daughters accusing glare. “Yes. Go. Be good for Mandy, or else.”

                “No!” She screamed as small hands began to beat on his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes. “No no no no no!”

                Gritting his teeth to hold onto any patience he had left- the first time she’d thrown a fit it had taken every ounce of will power in him to walk away and go to work, he’d felt like a piece of shit all day for it but now it was starting to get old. He held her tighter as she began writhing and squirming in protest. “Dammit, fucking stop! I’ll be back, you know I will so why do you insist on being such a-!” He cut himself off. He would _not_ refer to his daughter with any form of derogatory terms until she was old enough to actually deserve it let alone understand what the fuck he meant.

                Enter the ear splitting wails and thrashing limbs. Fifteen minutes of screaming bloody murder, Mandy getting kicked in the chin and the little shit actually head-butting Mickey –“She _really_ just fucking head-butted me!“ “Hey, like father like daughter eh?” “Fuck off, Mandy!”- the little girl sobbed hysterically onto her aunts shoulder while Mandy did her best to calm the kid down. Mickey went over to give her a kiss on the forehead, figuring it was the least comfort he could offer her but she actually spat at him. If she was anybody else in the whole fucking world her head would be spinning, but she was his child and so he did his very best to keep his homicidal urges at bay as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

                Marley stood there, fist stuffed into her mouth and wide honey eyes looking up at him.

                “You’re not gonna fucking start now too, are you?” He hissed, and almost felt bad when she quickly shook her head.

                “I’ll take care of her when you’re away! She always stops crying, just miss you.” Marley reassured him, pulling her fist out of her mouth to speak.

                A small half smile, only _half_ , appeared on the pale boy’s lips and he nodded at her. The kid wasn’t bad, that was for sure. As far as pseudo siblings went, she was the damn best his girl was ever gonna get.

                “Will you finish my movie til Mommy comes?”

                Jesus, what did he look like? His mouth opened to tell her that _no_ , he didn’t want to watch some kid movie right now but those huge amber eyes sucked him in and he did _not_ melt as he begrudgingly allowed himself to be led to the couch. The toddler scrambled up next to him, curling into his side and resting her forehead on his bicep. Marley’s fist found its place inside her mouth again, and he wanted to tell her to knock it off, made her look pathetic but he just couldn’t.

                Of course some Disney movie was on, the one about the hoodlum and the princess who had the tiger as a pet. The monkey was pretty bad ass, always stealing shit and having a tiger as a pet would be cool. These thoughts were how he justified watching this with the toddler to himself, as he’d found himself doing quite often since Brooklyn and Marley seemed to be infected with Disney and it was spreading like a disease to his girl. Not to mention awakening the lost child in Mandy who had long ago loved them as well. Freaks.

                Just as he was about to shout out to Brooklyn because what could _possibly_ be taking her this long, they were going to a bar not on a fucking date, those wide ocher eyes locked on his.

                “Are you my Daddy?” Marley asked softly, long lashes touching her brow bone.

                “Fuck, no!” Mickey sputtered, a wave of remorse hitting him quickly as her face fell. “I mean…Come on, kid I just…”

                What could he possibly say to that?

                “I know you’re not real Daddy. Real Daddy’s gone. But you’re my pretend Daddy now, right?” The look on her face made him carefully consider his words before he crushed what was left of this poor child’s spirit. That pissed him off, the fact that he cared about anyone’s spawn but his own. But what could he do about it? Not a damn thing. His thumb swiped his lower lip as he pondered what to say, knowing he had to watch his words because this child was particularly adept.

                “I’ll murder any guy that ever breaks your heart.” He offered, because that was the best he could do. She just beamed at him like the sun shone out of his ass, snuggled into his side in a way that told him his words were enough. He was enough. And that did not make his throat burn a little, not even the slightest. His arm lifted to let her, and he was so incredibly fucked. Feeling this mushy over a kid that wasn’t even his? So. Fucked.

                Brooklyn finally came prancing out, chocolate and blue hair sticking out in crazy kinks and curls and her face done up more than he’d ever seen it. Why it took her that long to do all this was beyond him. Her eyes were thickly outlined like Mandy’s usually were, and it made her already big eyes look even more so. If she’d been wearing a dress or something he’d have hit her; the ripped up Misfits shirt and lime green shorts still made him want to hit her. The bright ass shorts, not the shirt. The shirt he actually contemplated nicking from her when he got the chance.

                “It took you half an hour to look like that?” Mickey taunted, rolling his eyes and ruffling Marley’s hair before rising to his feet. Brooklyn just brushed him off as she caught her daughter’s flying embrace with a kiss goodbye and told her to be good for Mandy. The younger child’s screams had finally died down from the other room, replaced by pitiful whimpering. Marley just nodded dutifully, plopped back onto the couch and immediately became immersed in her movie once more.

                Aside from both of them immediately lighting a cigarette, no words were spoken for a little while as they walked to The Lamplight. Close, cheap, loud. He knew for a fact that many people he wouldn’t want to see were barred for life, including Frank Gallagher and so no chance of running into any Gallaghers or anyone else that would ask questions there. Not that any Gallaghers had any reason to ask him any  questions anyways, it wasn’t his fucking fault G I Joe had run off with his nose in the air and even if it was a little bit how would they even know that?

                With the exception of Lip. That fucker always knew too much. Frank would probably put two and two together if he was sober for a second enough to give a shit.

                Spitting the sour taste those thoughts left out of his mouth, he averted his gaze to Brooklyn who was shuffling beside him smoking her cigarette. Her eyes were dark, as if she were having bitter thoughts as he was. Lucky for them, they came up on the bar right in time.

                No one approached him or even spared a glance his way and he smirked, pleased. Good. Everyone better just keep their distance and no brains would be spilt tonight. Sure, he’d calmed down some since his daughter’s birth but that was for her sake. Couldn’t raise a kid from the inside of bars, and he knew he wasn’t Father of the Year but he would give her that much. No smashing in faces or dealing drugs with that little life on his head. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what could become of her if he were to still be mixed up in all that. Though his knuckles creaked and itched to demolish, his skim thrummed with constant energy begging to be released and there was such easy money to be made… Mickey had his priorities.

                Didn’t mean if someone stepped out of line or rubbed him the wrong way he wouldn’t put them right the fuck in their place.

                Brooklyn walked ahead, choosing a small booth at the back of the bar to slide into. Mickey joined her, rapping his tattoos on the table to let out some of the anxious energy bubbling inside him. Being in the public eye like this after being out of it for so long grated on his nerves, so when the cocktail waitress came over to ask after their drinks he didn’t hesitate for a moment to order a pitcher of Yuengling – he just knew Brook would bitch if he ordered Miller- and three shots of Jack, keep ‘em coming. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He hoped he drank so much he puked tonight and Mandy had to clean up his vomit mess in the morning. Serve her right for being a pushy little bitch. Probably just wanted to sneak some guy in or something.

                The brunette across from him raised an eyebrow in what seemed amusement, but she wisely chose not to comment as she told the waitress she’d drink from his pitcher and would also like a Long Island Iced Tea.

                “Pussy.” Mickey jibed when the waitress turned her back. Brooklyn nodded unashamedly and threw a coaster at him.

                “We take enough shots at home so forgive me for wanting an actual drink.” Sapphire eyes rolled, dodging the two coasters that were thrown back at her. “Hey! I’ll make a scene, don’t think I won’t. I’ll stand right the fuck up on this seat and announce to everyone that Mickey Milkovich’s daughter took her first steps today!”

                The borderline demonic glare he shot at her, which should have made her evaporate if he had his way, just made her giggle. He viciously fought the smile that pulled the corner of his lips at the rare sound, and as loathe as he was to admit it her good mood was infectious.

                Brooklyn stole one of his shots, ignoring his scowl and raising hers in the air. “To your daughter and to overcoming milestones, taking the first steps to the rest of life!”

                “Your toasts suck.” Mickey told her, but touched his shot to hers anyways and taking it without a wince. He quite enjoyed the burn, these days.

                They sat there for another hour or so, people watching and making fun of some of the more terrible outfits and in Brooklyn’s case, butchered haircuts and horrifying dye jobs. They debated every person in the rooms sexuality- “Don’t even pretend like you don’t have gaydar, you _have_ to” “I will fucking end you if you say that one more time”- based upon their outwards appearance. So they were a bit shallow. Whatever. They were on round ten, dead even so far.

                “That bitch looks more likely to have a dick than suck one.” Mickey sniggered, motioning to a large biker woman in the corner who actually really did look like a man.

                “Okay, okay. That guy! He appears to be gay with his metrosexual-“

                “Metro- _what?!”_

                “Shut up! With his metrosexual attire, however I’m gonna call straight.” Brooklyn announced to her one person audience, chugging the remains of the second pitcher of beer and stealing on of Mickey’s shots. She didn’t feel the slightest remorse, he’d downed half her second Long Island when she’d gone to the bathroom and she’d been nice enough to ignore it.

                “You’re kidding,” Mickey snorted, knocking back the remains of his beer as well. “Look at the way he’s dressed. Faggot.”

                Brooklyn glared at him like she did any time he used that word, she seemed to have a personal vendetta against it and the one time he’d asked her what her problem with it was she’d gotten so shrill in her explanation he decided it wasn’t even worth knowing. Not like he was gonna stop using it. “Bet you dinner tomorrow that he’s not.”

                “Prove it,” Mickey chuckled, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. He wasn’t worried one bit, because there was no fucking way she was right. He always got out of making dinner anyways.

                Rather than respond verbally, Brooklyn fluttered her lashes – which looked disgustingly long with the make-up she’d put on them, seriously they were distracting and he didn’t even go for that shit- and smiled sweetly. The brunette was the picture of innocence as she swiped the cigarette from between his fingers, took a drag and handed it back. “Watch me.”

                Sliding off the booth, she sauntered over in the direction of said guy and slid her elbows onto the bar, innocently waving over the bartender to order a drink. She stood there, lifting one foot into the air and twirling a strand of hair in such a perfect picture of an airhead it was kind of disgustingly impressive. The bartender moved to make her drink, and not even fifteen seconds after she’d gotten to the bar the guy they’d been debating over turned to her and smiled, his lips moving in words Mickey couldn’t make out.

                No way.

                A minute later, the brunette skipped happily back over, sipping on her now blue Long Island. “Wanna sip of my free drink, bitch? Have fun making dinner tomorrow night!”

                “Go fuck yourself.”

                Brooklyn just grinned, before hopping out of her seat once more to go pick the music on the obnoxiously glowing machine in the corner. Mickey waited until she was engrossed in her choices before snagging the blue drink and swallowing the majority of it. Served her right, cocky skank.

                The blue eyed boy was starting to get bored. They’d already played ‘Guess How They Take It’ with everyone in the bar, and both of them were sufficiently drunk enough. It was kind of nice being out, just fucking around with no screaming, shitting kids in their ears every five seconds and maybe they’d have to get out a little more often but for now he was beginning to get really over it.

                That feeling doubled when a tiny blonde girl slid into the booth next to him, her scantily covered leg pressing into his thigh. Mickey bared his teeth slightly, not in the mood for this one bit. Even if he was into girls, fucking Lana used to ware more clothes than that. And bleached blonde was _so_ not his thing.

                Her mouth opened, to greet him no doubt, but he beat her to it. “Fuck outta here.”

                Little Miss Blonde and Bare’s eyes widened like she was shocked. “Excuse me?”

                A pleased titter rang in his ears, and he smirked as Brooklyn hopped back into her seat. “You heard the man, fuck outta here or I promise you sweetie, you’re going to wish you’d never come up to him in the first place.” When the blonde stared in disbelief, Brooklyn just shrugged and went for her mostly gone drink. She scowled at Mickey who raised his brow as if to say ‘whatcha gonna do about it?’ accompanied by a menacing smirk before downing the rest and slamming the glass on the table.  “I’m bored, you bored? All hoes in here tonight.”

                “Bored.” Mickey answered simply, giving Brooklyn a slight nod of appreciation when the blonde fucked off. “No really, let’s bail.”

                Nodding, Brooklyn fell into step beside him as they made their way to the bar to settle the tab. When she reached into her purse for her wallet, he practically snarled at her. “Get that shit outta here.” He pulled some bills out of his own wallet, tossing them onto the bar top. She just smiled, putting her hands in the air as if to say ‘okay, okay’ and he nodded righteously. He still wasn’t her fucking charity, and even if she could afford it without blinking an eye didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pull his weight.

                Upon exiting the bar, their feet easily led them back towards home. He decided to take a different route, just for the hell of it, and they passed the park on the way. Brooklyn squealed like a little bitch and ran excitedly over to the swings. Mickey just stood there and glowered at her.

                “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to swing with you.” He told her, hitting his cigarette and blowing it at her face.

                “Don’t be a douchebag, Mick! Come on!”

                The corner of his eye may or may not have twitched a bit at her choice of shortening his name. That just served to irritate him that it did that and he didn’t feel like hearing her nag on top of it so he took a seat in the swing next to hers.

                They sat in silence for a few moments puffing away at their cancer sticks until Brooklyn, a little past tipsy, spoke.

                “Can I ask you something?”

                 “Just did.” Mickey smirked when she whacked him on the shoulder, exhaling smoke through his nose and waiting for the inevitable question.

                 “Why did you take me and Marley in?” Brooklyn asked, shyly looking up at him as he rolled his eyes.

                 “We’ve been over this-“ He started to deflect her yet again, but she pushed.

                 “No, you’ve given me your shit reasons but you never tell me the truth.” The petite brunette lifted her chin, crossing her arms to show him she wasn’t letting him out of it this time.

                 Sighing in slight annoyance, he kicked at some mulch by his feet as he flicked his cigarette butt a few feet away. He didn’t know if he was just tired of her asking for his fucking reasons, or if it was the alcohol loosening him up but next thing he knew words were tumbling out of his lips and it was too late to stuff them back in. “I don’t fucking know, Brook. Shit just happens, and you go with it or you get beat into the ground. The only reason I have a roof over my head is because I kiss ass to a psychopath. If I was out a roof and you had found us, wouldn’t you have done the same?”

                “Absolutely.” Brooklyn answered without hesitation, keeping her responses short and sweet now that Mickey seemed to actually be talking.

                 “Good. Then shut up.” Mickey nodded, satisfied that he’d finally given her an inch.

                 And just like a certain little fucker she’d come to remind him of more and more over the last few months, when he gave her an inch she took a mile.

                 “Tell me about your soldier?” The words were extremely quiet, tentative like she knew she was walking on broken glass ready to shatter with the slightest pressure.

                A hostile rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue – _your_ soldier?- but he really must have consumed more alcohol than he’d intended to because again the command chords fusing his brain with his tongue didn’t seem to be on the same page. “What about him is there to tell? Tall ass ginger, determined to get his ass shot off. Needy as fuck with a wrecked family. Used to bang old married shitheads cause he had a daddy complex. Shit went down, I got married to the whore and it turned out what I had to offer wasn’t enough so he ran off like a little bitch. The end.”

                 Sapphire eyes widened, she wasn’t expecting him to cave so easily but she knew better than to question it by that point in time because chances are Mickey wouldn’t be so open again. “Ah, so he’s a Firecrotch! Gotta watch out for those.” She grinned, ecstatic about finally having a bit more of a grasp on the mysterious solider.

                 Mickey’s lips twitched into a smirk, despite the sharp jolt he felt in his chest at remembering that particular nickname. “That’s what I called him.”

                 Brooklyn grew quiet for a moment, seeming to draw into her own thoughts before she answered him with a far-away look in her eyes. “I didn’t really have any cool nicknames like that for Marik. He just called me ‘Lyn when he was super serious or really mad at me.”

                 Mickey didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he kicked some more dirt instead of speaking. Mickey barely knew how to tell her about his shit, let alone respond to hers. As uncomfortable talking about this as he was, Brooklyn was probably the only person in the world he could talk to about it. His relationship with Mandy was repaired, but it wasn’t like he could bitch to her about _Gallagher_. And for Christs sake it had been brewing in him for almost a year and a half now, and her sneaky inquiries were starting to get old so he figured get it the fuck out now and they could all move on.

                 After another moment, she pushed a little more. “What'd he call you?”

                 He considered telling her to drop it, because this was getting a little too personal for him. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t feel the need to talk about his thoughts and emotions although she clearly did. He figured what the hell, she was always understanding and never really nagged him for anything until she did and he figured why not give it to her just this once. He’d already shared too much and then maybe she’d get off his back for a while, like throwing a dog a bone. “Mick.” He answered easily, staring up at the El as it blasted across the tracks.

                 She nodded seriously. “Okay, I guess that’s a thing.”

                Eyebrows furrowing, Mickey grimaced at her in disbelief. “What? Fuck you, it’s a thing!”

                “If you say so.”

                “I do, bitch.” He confirmed, kicking some mulch at her for good measure.

                 Brooklyn just laughed a little bit too long with her head tipped back a bit before her eyes softened. “I’ll stop calling you that if you want. I thought there was something in your eyes when I did.”

                Mickey shrugged nonchalantly, pretending he didn’t hear that last part. “Whatever, doesn’t bother me. I’m not some little pussy who’s gonna take it up the ass every time something reminds me of shit from the past.”

                Rather than respond, she reached over and patted his hand before pulling out her cigarettes and lit one. He mimicked her, their individual streams of smoke blending into a big cloud above their heads.

                Misery loves company, that was for damn sure.  There was a sort of irony in the chemical clouds, each coming from a different origin but meeting together, blending and sharing their toxins all the same.

                 The spotlight had been on him for too long, and as much as he pretended he didn’t really want to hear her sob stories the majority of the time, the curiosity was actually killing him and the fuzziness on his mental state pulled the words free. “So how about your dude, what’s he like?”

                Brooklyn winced, her happy face immediately shutting down. “He’s…He’s a hard man. Not many understand his way, he’s someone you kind of have to pick apart to understand that his actions usually don’t fit in with his words. Artistic in the most brilliant kind of ways when he feels like it. He uh doesn’t say much but every damn word is true. He was a great father, before…” The cigarette between her fingers raised to her lips and she sucked furiously.

                              “How’d you guys meet?” The question felt funny in his mouth, but if it kept her talking and away from asking about him so be it.

                “Kylie.” The anguish that laced her tone was almost tangible when she breathed out her lost friend’s name.

                “Ahh. So…what happened to her?”

                She scowled but opened her mouth to answer him anyways, as if she had to. Which she did. If she was gonna be poking around in his business damn straight he was gonna dig her shit up too.  “She…She over dosed. No one really knows for sure if it was intentional or not, but…” Her brows crinkled and her eyes lowered, leaving the end of that sentence in the air.

                 ‘But, I know it was.’

                “Hey, none of that.” He protested, seeing the tears rising in her eyes. If she was gonna start fucking crying the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. She was all fucking happy and fine all night, it was a change and it was nice and he hadn’t even realized it was encouraging a better mind state for him as well. Now for that to flip so suddenly was actually extremely irritating to Mickey. There was enough girly shit in the air with them talking about their ghosts. This specific ghost she spoke of, and now from finally finding out how her best friend had gone, sparked long buried thoughts of his ghost that had met the same end. Which only served to bring up more resentment as thoughts of the one person whose love he’d openly accepted plagued his thoughts. Before that love was overpowered by a burning need for chemicals melted through a pipe, hot liquid shot in a needle until there’s no more air to breathe in the smoke, no more veins to pump the high.

                 Brooklyn smiled weakly, visibly shaking herself before something dawned on her. “Wait, something you said before doesn’t make sense. If he used to bang old married dudes, how come there was such a problem with you and Lana?”

               Mickey felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, hearing he words he himself wondered a thousand times aloud. He sucked as hard as he could on his smoke, the exasperation coursing through him on top of his previous thoughts making him really want to punch something. “Fuck if I know, that hypocritical homewrecker. Guess it was different when they spoiled his ass.” He felt regret almost instantly for bad mouthing Ian like that, and he knew that wasn’t fair. It had been about so much more than that with them, and he damn well knew it(now). But that didn’t change the fact that it felt good to bash the redhead a little because it wasn’t fucking fair that he was the only one he gave a shit if he had a ring on his finger or not. All because he wouldn’t admit verbally that he liked cock; couldn’t profess some pointless words to confirm even more useless feelings, feelings whose mere existence showed how weak he’d become and signed his death warrant. Feelings that fucking ate him alive every second of every day, burned his flesh from the inside out and left screaming thoughts and bursting lights behind his eyes.

                After a few moments of nothing – where he was sure she was analyzing every word he’d given her- Brooklyn’s gentle words floated into his ears. “You're not as unlovable as you think you are, Mickey. You're actually pretty awesome. I know you want to punch me and fuck me up, and that you don’t give a shit but you can just deal with it. You got a bad hand in life but... “

               Making a fake gagging noise, Mickey pretended to wretch. “Can you stop before I puke? None of that shit matters, it is what it is and I got the hand I got.” ‘He got a bad hand in life’, that was the fucking understatement of the year. Such an understatement that it hurt his head as his mind swirled into thoughts about all the terrible, ironic bullshit his life had handed him.

                The bitterness must’ve shown through more than he’d intended because her eyes flashed in anger as they met his. She had this terrible habit of getting angry with him for just accepting the shit he had to and not fighting it, and couldn’t believe he still was so stubborn about never admitting his sexuality and true self out loud because “ _how can you_ live _like that, Mickey?”_

                "Why, because -"

                She stopped cold. It was either the panic that crept onto his face, or that she remembered where they were.  In public. Outside, in South Side Chicago where anyone could hear. Anyone, who could be loaded and wouldn’t hesitate for a heartbeat to take him out if his secret was revealed. After all, a boy who loves boys is a dead boy in these parts.

                 It definitely wasn't the look on his face, he nodded to himself. She just came to her senses, that was all.

                 Though the way her eyes widened and she seemed to visibly deflate told him otherwise, apologies blended with determination flashing in them as she stared him down. "You need to accept it, Mickey. You just do." 

                He was positive she wasn't talking about his character that time. But he was absolutely not going to talk about his liking dick and the shit it got him into in his fucked up life. She could call him on it and be aware of it, sure. And yes, she knew about Ian. Didn’t mean they were going to brush each others hair, paint their nails over sharing feelings. Besides, fuck her. He accepted it, it was the rest of the fucking world that wouldn’t. So he just pulled on his cigarette and stared at his feet, choosing not to answer her.

                 Both of their walls slammed back down, for the time being any ways. He knew there’d be a night soon when she got a little extra fucked up and spilled, more than the small glimpses he’d gotten so far. Clearly, he couldn’t fucking keep his mouth shut and she just kept finding out more and more about him as well.

                 If he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t so bad. He actually felt a little better, finally saying some of that out loud. Not that he was going to make a habit of it, though he was sure she was going to try. Bitch was always trying to get shit out of him, but was reluctant herself to share most of the time.

                “Come on, the girls are probably making Mandy go batshit.” Mickey said gruffly, tapped out of for the night. Now he was just thinking about things he usually blocked out, and it was just going to slowly turn his temperament sour. He wanted to get back to the house and just sleep.

                 Brooklyn nodded but instead of standing she started pushing her legs back and forth, gaining momentum on the swing to get into the air. After she was high enough, she launched herself forwards into the air, landing on her feet in a surprisingly graceful move for the usually clumsy girl. Out of breath and grinning like a lunatic, she motioned to him. “Well, let’s go!”

                 “Fucking maniac,” He mumbled, following her lead and falling easily into step with her as the made their way back to the Milkovich house. He wasn’t stupid, and knew she was putting on an act to cover up how shaken she was from the memories their conversation had drug out. However, he said nothing and instead distracted her. “Your kid asked me if I was her dad earlier.”

                 Her eyebrows flitted to her hairline and her lips pressed in a hard line of amusement, as if the mental image of that happening was funny. “Oh? And you said?”

                 “Told her I’d break any guy’s face that broke her heart.” Mickey said, shoulder lifting in an offhanded gesture as if it was no big deal.

                 “Aw, Mickey!”

                “What? Just didn’t want her to start the waterworks on me so I figured that would shut her up.”

                 “Sure, Mickey. Sure.”

                 The dark haired boy ignored her sarcastic tone, and his foot accidently popped up to trip her up. He laughed at her pained expression the whole way home, feeling less weighed down by the weight of his world than he had in a while.

* * *

_So yeah, I pulled the plug  
 _But I swore the spark would still be there__ _Buried beneath promises and lies_  
 _We suffocated in all our own filth_  
 _I swear I only wanted what was best, but you just left_  
 _I was just lonely, you were in love_  
 _But now it seems the tables have turned_  
 _And I feel so alone_  
 _Now you’ve left and I cannot fill the void_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting so hard to stay in order and write these chapters, I have so much planned for later and I just want Ian back NOWWWW but some things must go down first. Things, I tell you, and you will like the things! I hope. R&R please, any feedback welcome and appreciated =] The baby Milkovich shall be named next chapter, I'm going to try to have it up by next weekend but no promises. As always, a big thank you to anyone who looked over this in advance and to anyone who has given and continue to give this their time! Apologies for any mistakes in this or any future chapters, or formatting errors my computer seems to enjoy doing that.
> 
> Also, for anyone who is confused as I know it has been a bit confusing: Mickey's daughter is about to be one year old, and Marley is going on three years old.


	4. You Help Yourself To Find Your Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. I don’t really have any excuse other than lack of motivation most of the time and just generally busy in life. Anyways, here’s chapter four! Thank you all who have stuck with it and special thanks to those who care enough to actually find me on tumblr and give me a good kick in the ass to keep going! <3 As always, unbeta’d so sorry for any imperfections or errors! Disclaimers at the bottom this time, you’ll see why. Feedback is sooo appreciated, and I hope this was worth the wait!

 

 

_All that you’ve taken can’t awaken any chance with him right now_   
_Your eyes were closed when he left you waiting there_   
_To do this on your own_   
_I’m sorry, he had to find his way_   
_I know the sky could have fallen that day_   
_No one around,_   
_Or there to pick you up_   
_Still I know you can make it along_

* * *

                The Milkovich house was usually filled with noise.

                Whether it be the sound of knives being flung at a wall for target practice, water gurgling inside of a bong, the inhalation of bitter chemicals up the nostril or offensive, vulgar music blasting so loud the windows shook – there was always some sort of noise.

                The ruckus on this particular day was of a completely different sort.

                Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked in the door from work, praying to a higher power he didn’t even believe in for the patience to just make it through the next few days. His daughter still didn’t have a fucking name, and her birthday was fast approaching. They had about twenty four hours to come up with something, or the poor kid’s first birthday cake was going to say ‘Happy First Birthday, ___’. Not that he personally gave a flying fuck about birthday cakes or birthdays in general, but it was his kids so it was the first one he ever actually did care about. Other than Mandy’s, but he’d just gotten her some bootleg CDs, really good weed or gone light on the tittie twisters for the day as his gifts to her.

                “Dada!” The enthusiastic greeting came from the kitchen, where two pairs of opposite bright blue eyes flashed to him. Brooklyn looked exasperated; seeming relieved to see him as she set down a bowl of something and all but threw the bright green spoon into it. Marley was nowhere to be found but he heard a lot of commotion in another room.

                “Good, you’re home! You can feed her then because she is being fucking difficult tonight.” The brunette sighed, padding to the counter by the fridge and grabbing her beer.  His girl was perched in her booster seat that Brooklyn had put directly on the counter.

                “Well what the fuck are you trying to feed her that she’s being difficult?” Mickey replied shortly, going to his baby girl and half smiling at her. “Hey, kid.”

                “Today we tried new things! She likes mashed up red beets and avocado, does NOT like mashed turnips.” Brooklyn answered, her voice sounding weary and exhausted and she took a swig. “Marley got into the freezer while I was trying to feed her, I don’t know what got into these two today but they both have a shit ton of energy and I wish they’d share some with me.”

                “Turnips? I’ve never even had one and that sounds fucking disgusting.” Leaning his elbows on the table, the ex-con put his face within his daughters reach and allowed her to pat it lovingly.

                “Dada! Dada!” Her excitement at his appearance was apparent, and he couldn’t stop the genuine smile that spread across his lips for a few moments.

                “Why you giving Brook a hard time, huh?” Mickey asked, laughing when the only answer he got was a giddy burble and a tug of his hair. “Ow! None of that!” Withdrawing from her reach, Mickey lifted the bowl into his hands and arched an eyebrow at the oddly colored contents. “The fuck is this now?”

                “It WAS her dinner but she refuses to eat it! It’s bananas and strawberries and a bunch of other fruit thrown into it, she already ate her hot dog that she dipped in yogurt by the way.”

                “Ewe.” Mickey’s nose scrunched in disgust. Hot dogs in yogurt? Must be the Russian in her because he sure as hell didn’t eat weird shit like that. “That’s gross.”

                “It’s repulsive but with her growing desire to be a stubborn little shit about eating things I’m not going to argue with it.” Another deep sigh, beer chugged all the way down and she let out a breath. “Now where is-“

                Her words were interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of Mickey’s bedroom. From where they were standing, he was closer so he beat her there to investigate the sound. Marley stood there, big amber eyes the picture of innocence and a sheepish grin on her face as the two adults stared in horror. The toddler held Mickey’s .22 pistol in her hands. It appeared she’d been pulling down a stack of coloring books and knocked over an extra drawer that had been just sitting on top of his waist high dresser.

                “Put that down right now!” Brooklyn screeched stepping forward as the color drained from her face.  “Bed time! You know better than to get into things like that, Marley!”

                “Don’t fucking touch that!” Mickey shouted as the little girl blatantly ignored her mother, curiously examining the piece of metal in her hand. Her fingers were dangerously close to the safety, and Brooklyn gasped in horror, running to her daughter.

                Thinking it was a game Marley dropped the pistol and ran past Brooklyn, straight at Mickey. He was kneeling down to intercept her with his arms, but the little shit ran between his legs lightning fast. “Hey! It’s bed time for you, brat! You know you don’t touch the grown up shit!” He yelled after her, giving chase.

                “NO! NO BED TIME!” Marley screamed at the top of her lungs, running into the living room and jumping up onto the couch and throwing all the pillows and blankets onto the floor in a fit.

                Mickey and Brooklyn weren’t far behind, and Brooklyn glared at Mickey. “You had to leave the fucking gun out! She could have-“

                “I KNOW what she could have done, we’ll fucking talk about it later!” He snapped, stepping forward. He supposed he’d take this one, since Brooklyn had been dealing with the kids all day even though he was damn tired as well. He stepped towards the toddler threateningly. “Marley! Bed! NOW!”

                “NO!” Defiant as ever, she scrambled over the back of the couch and ran as fast as her little feet would carry her to the oversized chair across from it and usurping its contents as quickly as she had the couch. Brooklyn shook her head, lifting her hands in the air in defeat and going back to the kitchen to deal with his kid who’d also begun screaming since she only heard commotion but couldn’t see what was happening. This was Marley’s new thing, throwing fits before bed time if she wasn’t quite ready. Her tantrums were getting a bit out of hand. Mickey feared when his girl got old enough to throw them because he was damn sure they’d be a million times worse. His daughter threw tantrums fairly regularly, hers were just more violent and bloody; banging her head off the ground and walls when she didn’t get her way, smashing and throwing shit she didn’t want. She had taken to head-butting and biting people regularly whereas Marley just made as much of a mess as she could in as little time possible and played little escape artist when they tried to catch her. Fucking kid was good at it too.

                Catching up to her, Mickey was just on her heels when Marley’s little sneaker caught in a snag on the carpet. She was lucky though, and managed to hop on her other foot fast enough to regain her balance but that just gave Mickey an idea. Popping his foot out he snagged her ankle gently, just enough for her to face plant into the floor. He followed her down, carefully controlling his weight as he slammed down around her. Elbows bracketing her head, he curled around her and had her pinned in two seconds flat. She thrashed, screaming in protest but couldn’t really move too much.

                “Are you gonna fucking stop?!” Mickey growled, lifting his chin up to avoid her shoulder smashing into it.

                “No! No sleepy time!”

                Glacier eyes rolling once more in annoyance, he simply gathered her into a little ball in his arms and stood. The closer they got to the girls’ room the more she struggled, but her efforts were in vain.

                “I’m stronger than you, kid; you’re just wasting your energy.” He told her, pausing above her bed. She froze, suddenly switching up her game and wrapping her arms around his neck.

                “Pleaseeeeee! Don’t wannaaaaa!” She cried, big fat tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to puppy dog pout him.

                “Doesn’t work on me, you know that.” He scolded her, bouncing her in his arms a bit so she’d knock off the pathetic crying thing. He didn’t know where her sudden bad temperament these last few days was coming from; she was usually a fairly well behaved child. Her pout increased, and he sighed before laying her gently in her bed. “Hey, just remember you got a big day tomorrow full of exciting shit.”

                Or so Brooklyn told him. She had taken it upon herself to plan his kid’s “party”, although he wasn’t quite sure what kind of party she could have with the four of them, and Mandy.

                But whatever. It shut her up and kept her busy.

                “But-“Marley started, her tears welling again.

                “Knock off that crying shit. You’re gonna have to toughen up if you’re gonna live around here.”

                The toddler’s mood changed suddenly, and she giggled as he sat next to her. “You’re tough! Teach me!”

                His lips twitched into a smirk. “I will.” He ruffled her hair, using his free hand to reach over and turn on the iPod Brooklyn had set up next to her bed. Marley couldn’t sleep without music. “Once you’re a bit older.”

                “I’m three!” She said, big grin and lisped words rapping at the doors of his heart. Fuck, he needed to stop that shit too. Getting all stupid and gooey over dumb shit like his daughter’s eyes flashing with love when she looked at him, Marley grinning at him like he was going to protect her from everything and Brooklyn being the pillar he leaned on to go on. Not that he fucking wanted her there, he’d just made the best he could with what he had. And now, they were what he had.

                “Not yet.” Turning the volume up so the annoyingly familiar song floated softly around the room, he pulled the covers over her and tucked her in tight. Some song that he remembered from when he was a kid.  “Now fucking sleep.”

                “ _And I’d give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you’d feel me somehow…”_

                A little pink tongue darted out to mock him, before the girls eyes widened and she smiled. “Mommy! Kiss goodnight!”

                The look on Brooklyn’s face was absolutely heart breaking for a split second before it closed down, all emotion wiped clean. His girl bounced on her hip, reaching excitedly for him. Mickey stood, going to her and taking his daughter from her. Pulling the small, warm body into his arms he cradled her to his chest and watched as Brooklyn disappeared from the room after kissing Marley goodnight. Hm, that was odd. Brook was always very overly affectionate and usually lulled her daughter to sleep a bit, rather than just booking it like that. Maybe her patience for the night was just shot, or she was in a mood. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to his baby. He may or may not have nuzzled her cheek slightly as he kissed it adoringly, setting her into her crib. Her eyes were already closing, and she smiled sleepily at him as she burbled in content.

                “Night, little one.” Mickey murmured, stroking her chubby cheek with the back of a knuckle before easing out of the room. The smell of weed drifted down the hall and he followed the scent, craving a good high after his stressful homecoming. “What’s up your ass? Why’d you dip out of there?”

                Throwing him a look as she pulled out the slider and viciously sucked the smoke out of his bong, she blew smoke at his face as if that would offend him. “Fuck off.”

                “Whatever, bitch. Not like I care.” He shrugged, snatching the bong and taking a hit himself. Mickey didn’t miss the flash of hurt that crossed her features, but pretended he had. She was so damn sensitive, and she said one thing but wanted another and Jesus, no wonder he was gay because no way in hell could he deal with this shit in an actual relationship.

                A fake one, however, was a different story.

                If he was being honest, she kept him sane these days. Having her around had lifted some of the burden of being a single, young father off of his shoulders. Sure, he had Brook and Marley to watch after now as well but it wasn’t so bad. Marley was worming her way into whatever resembled his heart and Brooklyn just… She was just there. In every possible way, she seemed to just understand him. If he was having a shitty day and was in a pissy mood, she’d take the kids into another room and keep them occupied until he was ready to be around them. If he was having an extra shitty day and punched a hole in their wall, she bought a new poster to cover it up. And when he was just drowning in his misery but was too proud, not to mention stubborn, to admit he just wanted some company, she’d sit next to him on the couch with a book in her lap and a joint in her hand.

                Aside from the burning pain in his chest whenever a Gallagher came into the Kash N Grab, or he flipped past a solider getting blown up in a war movie or other crap like that so gay he wanted to punch himself – that happened a lot more frequently than he’d ever admit to- he felt a little better. Like he was getting back to normal after the bizarre last year or two of his fucked life.  Unfortunately for everyone else, that meant his knuckles burned from misuse. His lungs, nose and veins were way too clean for his liking. And he was getting a little too good at bottling shit up again, pushing his longing and regret deep down inside. So far down, he eventually just lost it in the depths of all else forgotten and refused.

                Taking a fucking impressive hit from his bong, if he did say so himself, he handed it back to the brunette as he blew his smoke in her face in retaliation. “You gonna be in a mood for the rest of the night now?”

                The glare he received would have burned holes in him, he was sure, if she were capable of such a thing. Rather than a snarky remark that was her usual, she just shrugged and took a huge hit again before passing it back and lighting a smoke. He followed suit, and they sat on his bed in silence. Mickey didn’t mind the silence, setting the bong on the nightstand next to him and reclining back on his side of the bed. Brooklyn did the same, setting and ash tray between them as both pairs of blue eyes contemplated the moldy ceiling.

                After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Brooklyn suddenly broke it. “What did you want to do with your life?” She didn’t feel adding “before your kid” was necessary.

                Mickey chewed on that for a moment, considering giving her some fuckhead answer and being his usual unpleasant self but something about her demeanor stopped him and he found the closest thing to the truth he could probably manage spilling from his lips. “Nothing. I was fucked for life anyway. Guess I just got extra dicked over…” He almost left it there, but after a moment he swiped his thumb across his bottom lip and added a curious, “you?”

                Brooklyn shifted to her side slightly, curling her knees up a bit but tilted her head back to continue staring at the ceiling. “I wanted to be a platform artist in New York or celebrity stylist in LA or some shit since I was in Seattle. Or a kindergarten teacher. Or a marine biologist. Hell, even considered being a criminal therapist once.” Mickey couldn’t help the snort that left him at that. “But…Then I just…” She trailed off, chewing the corner of her lip nervously.

                “What?” He asked, eyes flickering her way and wondering why she’d cut herself off.

                “Nothing.”

                “What were you gonna say?” Mickey pushed, tone becoming menacing.

                Her sapphire eyes rolled. “You’re just gonna make fun of me.”

                His rolled in response. “Stop being a pussy and answer me.”

                Hesitating, she nibbled her lip a little more before giving in with a sigh. Reluctance tainted her voice, with a hint of wistfulness. “I was happy just being his wife. Just…When you’re a part of someone like that, that’s all you really need and everything else is just kind of background noise ya know? When…When two souls connect that deeply, it’s all that’s necessary.”

                Mickey heard the heavy ending on that train of thought that she left unspoken. About how after being ripped away from that whole, you’re never quite the same.

                Scoffing, Mickey inhaled deeply and let the smoke flow out his nostrils as he spoke. “Christ Brook, there’s some Midol in the cabinet.” He tried pushing it off like her words didn’t get to him. But when her eyes rose and that…That knowing look that punched him right in the heart stared at him and he thanked fuck that her eyes were such a distinguished shade of blue because it was straight up creepy how much that look reminded him of the green ones that used to look at him in that exact way.

                And that thought just put him in a piss poor mood right the fuck away, and he scowled at her. All emotion drained from her stare, the fire and assurance in them previously gone in a flash and then they were just utterly void. Dead, almost soulless. It was still creepy.

                “It’s time to color your hair.” Brooklyn stated, eyes flickering to the top of his head as she changed the subject. “Your blonde’s coming through.”

                Mickey gave a grunt of acknowledgment, but couldn’t shake off the heavy moment as much as he tried. Not that he was some pathetic sappy fool who was pining away for someone but…Wait. Wasn’t he, though? Just living his life, almost stagnant although content?

                “You should grow it out.”

                He just shook his head, stubbing his cigarette in the ash tray and ignoring her. He rolled so his back faced her, wordlessly telling her he was done talking and interacting for the night.

                Brooklyn just flicked off the light, plopping down as far away from him as she could get on the bed.

                That night, he dreamt of bombs going off. Bodies dropping, limbs flying and blood splattering all around him.

                But only half of him could feel it.

* * *

 

                The following morning was hectic. Brooklyn had crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, running around like a crackhead assembling things and throwing shit in the oven. A few curses and what sounded like dishes crashing were heard from time to time, until Mickey threw his covers off and bitched under his breath about loud bitches on his way to the shower.

                Why she was making such a big deal about this was beyond him. It was his kid’s first birthday, sure. But she was taking it to a whole other level. He had stopped paying attention to all the shit she’d been getting together for a few weeks now long ago. It made his head spin, and his sharp tongue want to lash out at her and he knew that wasn’t fair. Over the last few months she’d been around he had grudgingly accepted her entirely way too generous nature. Didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off, he just had learned to not vocalize it. She knew it angered him. Wasn’t going to stop her, stubborn bitch.

                After he showered, smoked a joint, popped his knuckles and ran a glop of gel through his wet hair he stepped into their room, throwing on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that looked half decent. Then he wandered out into the house, going into the kitchen and stopping in his tracks. There were decorations fucking everywhere. Flamingos, rabbits, giant arrow signs that said ‘This Way’ and ‘That Way’ in distorted letters and…tea cups amongst other random shit. Rather than the anger that usually would take him over at Brooklyn’s extravagance, a brow quirked in amusement.

                She really had gone all out.

                There was even a giant cake in the shape of a top hat that said ‘HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY …’ That made him scowl. She’d left room to add something, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to put on there.

                The rest of the kitchen and living room were decorated similarly, and he had to suppress an obnoxious guffaw when he saw his dad passed out on the couch, right in the middle of the girly decorations.

                Striding past the dick, he went into the girls’ room and found Brooklyn, Marley and his daughter. Mandy was at school, he knew, although she’d sworn – not that he gave a shit- to be home by the time the ‘party’ started. Brooklyn’s hair was an absolute mess, sticking out from a haphazard bun on the top of her head and was still clad in sweatpants and a tank top. Marley was a vision, and it made a smile start to rise. She was wearing a dark red puffy little dress with a half black and half red heart hat, sprawled on the floor over a big sign she was eagerly scribbling all over. His girl was sitting next to Brooklyn, gnawing on a teething ring and tossing the blocks he assumed were supposed to keep her occupied all over the room. She looked so damn cute it literally almost hurt him, all dolled up in a little blue dress with a white apron. Brook had popped a little black headband on her as well, and he was surprised to find it endearing. 

                The brunette was bent over something, intently gluing two pieces of something together. Was that a giant cut out card? He wasn’t even going to try to make sense of that. “I’m fucking starving. You eat?”

                “I’m good, they need to eat.” Brooklyn answered quickly, not even looking up at him as she flattened her palms down and put all her weight onto whatever she was trying to glue together. Music floated out from her phone, plugged into Marley’s speakers and playing some band he recognized. He couldn’t put a name on it, but he remembered being a kid and thinking he was a bad ass screaming ‘ ** _BACK OFF, I’LL TAKE YOU ON. HEADSTRONG, TO TAKE ON ANYONE_** ’ at the top of his lungs and shadow boxing in his back yard.

                Fuck that, he _was_ a bad ass. Nodding in assurance to himself, he shuffled to the kitchen to prepare something easy for himself and the kids. Another song he recognized, though not as well, came on and then some he didn’t.

                Mickey had just finished some easy mac and cheese for the kids and was right in the middle of making the best Shaggy munchies sandwich ever for himself when the sound of something large thudding to the floor assaulted his ears. Brooklyn ran full speed into the room, skidding to a stop a foot away from him with eyes as big as saucers.

                “I’ve got it.” She said, excitement glinting in her eyes and triumph touching her smile.

                He waited, cocking his head a bit in question.

                “Avelyn.”

                Mickey froze, sandwich still in hand. It struck something in him. All that flashed through his mind were warm, welcoming arms and a smile so bright it could light up the world. Soft words of love long forgotten from a time he couldn’t forget.

                Big, blue eyes and long dark hair. His mother.

                _Amanda Lynn Milkovich._

                Mickey just nodded, face blank. No words came to him, but none were necessary. Grinning victoriously, Brooklyn grabbed his free hand and dragged him to the cake. She handed him some plastic bag with a tip in the corner that had bright purple icing inside, and pointed to the empty slot.

                Slowly, purposefully, Mickey scrawled the name across the cake.

                ‘Happy 1st Birthday, Avelyn.’

                They looked at each other, and he didn’t even attempt to fight off the grin.

                She finally had a name.         

* * *

 

                An hour later, things were going into melt down mode. Mickey was pretty sure there was glue in Brooklyn’s hair as she frantically hung the last of the decorations, Marley was chewing on a marker that was surely to explode in her mouth so he snagged it, and Avelyn – _god,_ it felt good to finally call her something after all this time- was playing with streamers in her walker.

                “Seriously, Brook chill the fuck out! It’s not like you have anyone to impress.”

                “It’s her first birthday! It’s a big deal!”

                “Exactly! Her _first_! She’s not even going to remember it!”

                “That’s what cameras are for!”

                Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a knock at the door, and irritation flared. He stalked over, wondering who it could possibly be. No one came to their house.

                He swung the door open, staring blankly at the man there. “The fuck do you want?”

                “Uh…” The guy stuttered, and Mickey just glared expectantly. “I’m here to set up the bouncy castle?”

                Set up the…

                Scowling, Mickey left the door open but stomped over to where Brooklyn was hopping around the kitchen, frantically throwing things in dishes. “A _bouncy castle_ , Brooklyn? Are you fucking joking?”

                Grinning innocently at him, she wiped sweat from her brow and tossed the last of the cookies she’d made onto the plate. “What?! It’s awesome!”

                “Fucking really, woman? We don’t even have any friends or anyone who’s coming to this damn party other than my sister! And you go and buy something that can fit like, twenty kids?!” Exasperated was an understatement. She couldn’t be serious.

                “But now we’ll have it forever, for all the future birthdays!”

                Speechless, Mickey just shook his head and walked away, growling as he did so. She could deal with the fucker, then. Plopping down next to Avelyn, he welcomed her when she hobbled over into his arms. She was walking better and better every day.

                “Hey…Avelyn.” He tested to name on his tongue, and was glad to find it felt right. It fit. The bright smile she flashed at him set it in stone. She liked it, too.

                Marley had been sitting next to her, playing with some stuffed animals she’d been putting on a little play for Avelyn with. She looked up at Mickey, her almost glowing eyes sparkling. “Avelyn?”

                “Yup.”

                “Avvie!” Marley giggled, clapping in excitement and fixing her hat when it started to slide off her head of chestnut hair. Mickey just watched as she continued on with the fake play, making things up as she went that seemed to make total sense to her and draw Avelyn’s complete attention.    

* * *

 

                Later, he found out that Brooklyn had gone with a vintage Alice in Wonderland theme for the party. He had to admit- to himself- that it was pretty fucking cool and it was actually a shame no one else was there to enjoy it. Even his dad had woken up, grunting at Brooklyn in acknowledgement of her existence which was actually friendly for him. Most of the time, he just accepted she was there. He’d gladly drank the beer she’d provided, and then stumbled out the door an hour or so later right as Mandy arrived and hadn’t returned.

                Mandy bought this funky looking doll for Avelyn that had lime green streaks in its hair and heavy make up on its eyes and some kind of whacky outfit on. Avelyn immediately stuck its head in her mouth, of course. Brooklyn got her a retardedly huge Snoopy; it was like three times as big as Marley. He didn’t even question where the hell she’d found that.

                ‘Marley’ (Brooklyn) got her a sea foam green quilt that was all fluffy and soft, although she seemed reluctant to hand it over. She was a good sport about the whole day’s attention being on Avelyn though, and it was clear that she genuinely loved the little one already.

                Mickey didn’t give her his present until he tucked her in for the night. He took down the mobile above her crib, replacing it with a new one. He’d searched through at least three stupidly big toy stores trying to find something like this. It was a light up mobile that had faeries and dragons and other mythical creatures on it. He knew she was too young to appreciate it, but he’d loved fantasy shit when he was younger until the real world had been punched into him so many times that he’d forgotten all about it.

                He refused to let life do that do her. And so, he’d gotten to stupid thing.

                “Happy birthday.” He murmured as her eyes fluttered to sleep, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. She was exhausted. After the guy had put up that bouncy castle, they’d all spent all day in the back yard where Brooklyn had set up a water slide and some silly kids games that Marley enjoyed. Mandy, Mickey and Brooklyn had all took turns holding Avelyn in the bouncy castle, until she’d vomited her lunch up onto Mandy’s shirt. Both of the kids were beat after all the excitement, and he heard the sound of little feet shuffling in the room and a tug on his pants.

                “Mickey?” A sleepy, soft voice said and he reached down to lift Marley.

                “Yeah, kid?”

                “Can you put the song on and tuck me in again?”

                Song? Shit, what song had been on when he’d tucked her in last night? It took him ten minutes to figure it out, shuffling through the songs until he recognized the opening notes. Marley was out within seconds, clutching onto his hand and her mouth hanging open. He kissed her on the forehead in an oddly affectionate moment for him, He stopped by Avelyn’s crib, doing the same to her, pulling her blanket up a bit higher and quietly closing the door behind him.

                Mandy was sitting in the living room, shoving some cookies into her mouth and guzzling a beer. Brooklyn came out from the kitchen with a platter of fruit, popping some into her mouth as she sank down next to Mandy.

                “So, now what?” Brooklyn asked, leaning her head against Mandy’s shoulder and eyes slipping closed. “I’m fucking beat.”

                “Well, our night has only begun.” Mandy smirked devilishly, an evil glint in her eye when her brother and Brooklyn both looked at her questioningly. She finished her mouthful of cookie, before reaching into her bra and pulling out a little baggie filled with pink-ish crystals. “Who wants to get fucked up on Molly and jump around in the bouncy castle?”

                Her only answer was Brooklyn beaming at her as Mickey snatched the bag from her hand and ran towards the back yard, shoving some of the crystals eagerly into his mouth as the girls chased after him.

                An hour later, the three were laughing hysterically and breathing heavily as they jumped around like hyper little kids that had gotten into the candy stash. The pounding of their hearts only served to increase the whirling giddiness the ecstasy brought, throwing each other into the walls and doing back flips. After about forty five minutes of that, they all laid on their backs, panting. Mandy lay in the middle, head down by both of their feet as they all shared a giant blunt.

                Suddenly, Mandy sat up. Her eyes shone, and she looked so intensely at Mickey that he swallowed. What was she up to?

                That mischievous glint was back in her almost fully dilated eyes, and she cocked her head before holding out the blunt in offering. “To your beautiful daughter, Avelyn. She may not have been brought into this world in the most conventional of ways, but she’s a fucking Milkovich and that’s usually how it goes. You sure make a beautiful kid, fuckface.”

                Mickey stole the blunt from her fingers, putting his hand on her forehead and pushing her back down before resting his head on his arm and inhaling deeply. “Yeah, I fucking do. I’m gonna have to kill someone one day,”

                “Oh, you’ll definitely end up in jail for beating up the guy that nails her first.” Mandy said, and Brooklyn sniggered and plucked the blunt from Mickey’s mouth as he kicked Mandy in the side of the head. They all laughed, staring up out the opening at the stars and enjoying the cool summer breeze on their overheated skin.

                After a few minutes of mindless chatter between the two girls, he reached over and squeezed Brooklyn’s wrist as well as Mandy’s ankle in silent thanks for taking this day on and turning it into a surprisingly good fucking time for him. Rolling like he was and in as high spirits as he was tonight, he still couldn’t bring himself to vocalize his appreciation to these two women who were really the only things he had left in this world other than his daughter, and now Marley.

                The world was a funny place, he decided. It ripped him to shreds, saddling him with a woman he didn’t want and a kid he didn’t want even more. It was especially, ironically, funny how a single year can change so much.

                And yet, as he stared up at the sky he couldn’t help but remembering a certain redhead who he wished was here for this moment. There wasn’t a blanket, but there were stars and drugs and good people and that was the sort of thing he was sure Gallagher would enjoy. A wistful, sad smile crossed his mouth for a moment and he allowed himself that time to honestly feel how much he missed that shithead. And god, did it hurt.

                But then Brooklyn was jumping up, tossing the spent blunt into the grass outside the castle and grinning like a mad woman at the two of them, her pupils blown so wide you could barely see the cerulean iris’ and the pure happiness on her face dragged him out of his silent pity party. If she could be happy right now, so could he.

                “Fucking WATER SLIDE!”

                “Oh, FUCK yes!” Mandy laughed, standing up and the two ran off to the slide, dropping to the ground and sliding through it. Maniacal laughter littered the air, and Mickey felt a genuine smile rise to his lips as he hopped out of the bouncy castle and ran after them at full speed.

* * *

 

 

 

_He’s in every one of your dreams_   
_And you still need him there when you sleep_   
_Wait for hours, counting the days_   
_As the tears fall down your face_   
_If there was something more I could be_   
_I would not hesitate to break free_   
_But for everything, there was change_   
_You help yourself to find your way_   
_Why do we always want what we cannot have,_   
_And set ourselves up only to lose?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it won’t take me another two months to update this. Shits about to get real good. :D  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the song or lyrics to ‘Avelyn’, the endlessly inspiring Trapt does. Nor do I own ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, or anything else that you recognize most likely.


	5. This Is My Message To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I am SO SORRY guys. Work was crazy over the holidays and life in general and then my computer took a shit but I got a Surface so we’re back in the game now! And right in time for some fresh feels from season four like what happened last night. Mickey was THE MAN. To the anons that so lovingly sought me out on tumblr, I APOLOGIZE TO YOU THE MOST because you are awesome and love this story enough to find me and ask me to continue, repeatedly. And to all of you but to you especially, stick with me guys. I know I’m inconsistent but I am determined to finish this. Hope this chapter makes up for the long wait =]  
> Disclaimer: Don’t own a thing except Brooklyn and Marley.

 

               “You don’t actually think you’re putting that on my kid.” It was not a question, more so a resigned sigh. He knew the brunette was going to do as she damn well pleased, and fuck what he thought.

                “It’s Halloween, man, she needs a costume!” Brooklyn replied, lifting Avelyn into her arms and standing her up on Marley’s bed to lift her nightgown over her head. The item of clothing that Mickey had just scorned was hanging over her arm, and she tugged it on the little Milkovich before bouncing up and down in excitement, clapping. Sapphire eyes beamed at Mickey as if to say “come onnnnnn!”, but his arms just crossed stubbornly and an eyebrow quirked. “She looks adorable!”

                “She looks frilly and stupid.” Mickey corrected, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth for a second before disappearing again. The bottle of warm, but not too warm - he’d burned the inside of his wrist checking the temperature of Avvie’s bottle enough times that the correct temperature was achieved almost instinctually now- liquid nutrition was tossed back and forth between his hands as he waited to get his hands on his little monster.

                Halloween was the next day, and Brooklyn had gone out all over Chicago searching for the perfect costumes for the girls today. He hadn’t been about to complain about it, since it so happened that today was his birthday and Brook seemed to mercifully have forgotten about it what with Marley’s birthday the following day. Marley had dubbed herself the Halloween Princess since her birthday was on Halloween, and had been barely containing her excitement to try on her own costume as Brook made sure Avelyn’s fit.

                “Its adorable, just shut up.”

                “What is it even supposed to be?” Mickey snorted, ignoring her comment.

                “If you’d wait a god damn second.” Brooklyn grumbled, going through the costume bag for another piece. When she placed the headband on Avelyn’s head, he couldn’t stop the smirk that twitched up.

                “Is that supposed to be Wonder Woman?” Amused, the blue eyed boy stepped forward to inspect his daughter a little more. The chest was just a plain white tank top but the skirt was poufy and some sort of blue tutu with little white stars. The headband was gold with a big red star in the middle, the only indicator of who the baby was portraying.

                “It IS Wonder Woman, asshat.” The brunette mumbled, fixing the tutu before hitting the hidden button in the top that made the stars in the skirt light up. Avelyn giggled and clapped excitedly, mumbling nonsense at top speed to herself and trying to jump off the bed. Brooklyn caught her just in time to swing her into Mickey’s arms.

                Marley ran into the room, looking up at them with big eyes. “My turn my turn!”

                “Yes Marley, your turn. You waited like a good girl!” Brooklyn told her proudly, catching the toddler as she leapt at her.

                “Hey kid.” Mickey said fondly to his girl, holding her tightly to his side as he inspected her little glowing outfit. It was kind of cute, though he’d never fucking say that out loud.

                “Daddy daddy!” Avelyn giggled, clinging to his neck and nuzzling his shoulder lovingly. ‘Daddy’, ‘No’, ‘Mine’ and ‘Bleck!’ were the only words she’d 100% mastered the use of so far, some of her other speech was coherent but mostly it was nonsense sounds as she tried to grasp the concept of language.

                “Like your stupid costume?” Mickey grumbled, fixing her headband as it almost fell off when he bounced her. She just gabbed nonsense, and he figured that was the closest to an answer he was going to get from a one year old child. Avelyn gasped when he flicked it a bit too hard and it started to slide off the other side, reaching up to grab it as he pushed it to the other side just to hear that little panicked sound again. Not because it was cute or anything. He just felt like it.

                While he’d been entertaining himself and his daughter, Marley had wriggled into her costume and was suddenly running t him full speed. She stopped right in front of him, holding her fingers up like a gun and saying “BANG!”

                Now her outfit was instantly recognizable, and he actually had to bite the inside of his cheek not to smile outright at her. She was all done up in a half black half red jester outfit, hat to boot with little black eye mask. “And who the hell are you?” He asked, just because he knew she wanted him to. She was practically bursting.

                “I’M HARLEY QUINN!” The toddler screeched at the top of her lungs, in her lisped three year old speech. “Bang bang!”

                Brooklyn’s entire face was lit up as she looked at the three of them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and crossing her arms smugly, “They’re both fucking adorable, just like I told you they would be.”

                “Yeah, yeah fuck what you told me. Let’s get the little Glow Worm and Jester here to bed now that they’ve tried their dumb ass costumes on.”

                “Glow Worm?!”

                “Don’t. Even.” Mickey threatened her with curl of his lip as he undressed his daughter, put her back in her nightgown and fed her nighttime bottle, ignoring Brooklyn little remarks about how his inner softy was showing and imagining throwing the bitch into the wall.

                Avelyn was out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, the little fingers of one hand shoved in her mouth while the others were curled possessively around his. Mickey rested his chin on the wall of her crib, back bent and staring down at his little life. She’d grown so damn much. She was walking around solidly on her own now, falling on her face when she tried to run and trying her damnedest to hold a ten second conversation that made sense. She had also learned that if she wrapped her fingers around a lock of Brooklyn or Mandy’s hair and pulled hard enough she would get her way, at least temporarily, and if she stuck her finger in Daddy’s eye he fumed and cursed which she just found hilarious. She hadn’t found any of Marley’s buttons to push regularly yet, but he suspected that was because Marley spoke baby better than any of them and was her partner in crime for the time being.

                A wail jerked him from his thoughts, standing straight up and glancing over to the other girls in the room.

                “But I want Mickey to tuck me in and sing me the song!”

                “He SINGS it now?!” Brooklyn sniggered, ducking in time to narrowly avoid the large stuffed bear Mickey threw at her head.

                “Not tonight, kid.” When Marley’s eyes widened with wetness and her mouth opened, he flinched in anticipation of the loud scream and held his hands up. “Tomorrow I’ll sing you two songs, okay?”

                Pouting, the toddler accepted and went to sleep without much of a fuss. Her before bed temper tantrums were, thankfully, only once or twice a week now and it seemed as though she was wiped from the day of costume hunting as well. After they both tucked her in and said goodnight, Mickey made his way to their room and collapsed on their bed. Mandy was down the hall in her room, blasting music with the stench of nail polish remover wafting down the hall. It was almost enough to mask the permanent meth scent of the house, but not quite.

                “You wanna watch some TV or something?” He called out to Brook, pulling his dirty work shirt over his head and pulling on a fresh one. Brooklyn bitched when he wore his grime covered clothes to bed, and he just didn’t want to hear it.

                When he got no response, he turned to find the room empty. He thought she’d been behind him when he’d walked in, but she must’ve ducked into the bathroom or something. Shrugging, he collapsed back onto their bed and lit a smoke, pondering the ceiling.

                After a few minutes, Brooklyn appeared in the doorway to his room and shut it quietly behind her before facing him with a sheepish look on her face and her hands behind her back.

                “What are you looking at?” He asked, exhaling and sitting up at the waist, lighting another cigarette for her and offering it.

                Sharing cigarettes was one thing they never did. He only legitimately shared a smoke with one person. And that person…

                A scowl crossed his face at that thought and a foul mood rose, sparking annoyance at her hesitance. She hadn’t moved an inch or spoke, and just kept looking at him like she was waiting for him to explode on her. “What the fuck is it?”

                Sighing in acceptance or defeat she walked to the bed quickly as if she’d lose her nerve otherwise, and dropped a few things on his thighs before taking the offered cigarette.

                Those things were presents.

                And Mickey was pissed.

                “What the FUCK, Brook?!” Mickey snarled, shoving the little things onto the bed and hopping to his feet to tower over her as he shouted. “How many times do I have to tell you-“

                “It’s your birthday, Mickey!” Wide cerulean eyes peered at him, and she took a step back.

                “I don’t give a SHIT! I was just fine every other year not getting anything. Why do you feel the need to get shit for everyone? Not everyone appreciates the sentiment.”

                Her eyes hardened a bit, and she stepped back into his personal space with her chin raised. “I know that fuckhead, but it’s just who I am okay? It’s not about the material it’s about the thought, and you’re the most unappreciative-“

                “See! It’s all about appreciation-“

                Now she literally invaded his space. “NO. It has NOTHING to do with appreciation because I expected nothing less than THIS from YOU. It’s about thinking hey, this girl thought of me and wanted to do something nice for me on the day that celebrates my existence just like she did for my daughter and Mandy and is going to do tomorrow for her very own daughter! But noooooo you just have to throw a fit like a child, instead of accepting someone caring about you.” She flicked the ashes from her cigarette on his chest, and his jaw dropped. She was so lucky she was her, because anyone else would be laid out right then and there and as he opened his mouth to tell her to back the fuck up, she shoved him back to a sitting position on the bed. “Just fucking do it. Okay?”

                Mickey just stared at her and wondered when he’d gotten so soft that a girl who weighed a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet felt that she could speak to him that way. He was just about to finally snap on her, his bad mood spiking with the anger but then he’d never get to sleep cuz she’d be in a piss poor mood and just fuck it all.

                He grabbed one of the presents and, as unenthusiastic as he could to prove a point, unwrapped it and the rest of them without a word. Once he was done he gazed in shock at the items before him.

               The gifts were so thoughtful, so carefully inexpensive and so very _him_ that he had to mentally calculate how long he’d known her now. Going on six months. How in the hell did she notice these little things so fast? Laid out before him was a brand new butterfly knife, a gray, black and white blown glass pipe and an eighth of coke. There was also a little silver statue of some kind of bird, and a box of bullets for his .22. His throat burned a little bit, as guilt hit him for lashing out at her like he had. It still irritated him, and the guilt almost made it even more so. But, fuck.

                “Uh…thanks.” Mickey mumbled, trying to make up for his shithead attitude by brushing past it. “But what’s with the bird?”

                She shrugged, the tension easing out of her shoulders now that the threat of him lashing out wasn't as apparent. “It’s a phoenix.”

                Mickey just stared blankly at her. “A what?”

                Her eyes rolled as she plopped onto the bed next to him, shifting a bit closer subconsciously. His lip twitched, but he didn’t comment. Brooklyn was a very touchy feely person, and it was so natural that when she wasn’t paying full attention she didn’t notice how crowded she made him feel sometimes. He tried his best to keep his sniping comments to himself because he knew she didn’t do it on purpose, but he knew hurting her feelings was inevitable with his sour mouth. She’d been lucky enough to not crowd him on his extra nasty days so she was unscathed so far. He just stared at the statue, running his fingers over it as she reached across him to the nightstand to grab a book to shake some coke onto.

                “The phoenix bursts into flames and rises from the ashes of what he was, starting fresh. I don’t know, it reminded me of you. You kind of took a shitty situation and pushed through it, and kinda of rocked the shambles your life was left in.” Brooklyn shrugged, as if there was more thought she’d put into it but didn’t say anything else.

                “Well don’t be expecting any gay shit like this come your birthday, especially since its right after Christmas.”

                The girls eyes lit up. “You remember when my birthday is?”

                A scowl took over the pale boys features and he knocked her should. “Shut the fuck up.”

                She just grinned, rolling up a dollar bill she nicked from the nightstand as well and doing a line. She rubbed her nose and eyes after, making Mickey laugh.

                “Not your poison?” He asked, gently taking the book from her and blowing a line twice the size of hers in one nostril before doing it again in the other. He curled his fingers into his cheek, pulling to the side and snorting once more to make sure it got really up there. Fuck, he missed that burn. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done this shit.

                “Nah.” She said simply, “But I’ll do it if it’s there. I know you like it though.”

                Mickey thought for a minute. “I never told you that.”

                “I think you forget that Mandy and I both have a vagina and we talk a lot more than you realize.”

                The little secret smile, like she knew so fucking much, pissed him off. “Yeah, well fucking don’t, especially about me.”

                “Whatever dick.” Her eyes started to get a little glazed, and she stood up, grabbing a bottle of tequila off the dresser and swigging it.

                “Coke and tequila, you tryin’a die tonight?” He grabbed the bottle and took a swig himself. She just grinned, leaning over and taking another line, tilting her head back and tapping the dollar bill to assure she got it all.

                “I’m a big girl, I can handle my shit.”

                -------------------

                As it turned out, she could not.

                Not with coke involved.

                The sound of her forehead banging against the toilet made him wince, but the smug smile stayed put. “Told you.”

                “Fuck you!” Brooklyn growled, dragging a hand through her mess of hair. “It’s the coke.”

                “Shoulda stayed out of my coke.”

                “I GOT it for you! Ugh, I just need to throw up.”

                Mickey just laughed when she groaned again, rubbing her stomach and mumbling something under her breath.

                “What was that?” He prodded, taking a long drag of his smoke and blowing it in her face.

                “I said I wish I had a fucking gag reflex.” Brooklyn griped, shoving two fingers down her throat in an attempt to make herself puke. She didn’t even flinch wiggling them around.

                “Oh that’s fucking fantastic. Bet you give great head. How much dick you have to suck before it goes away completely?” Mickey teased, tossing the toothbrush she was reaching for at her, laughing even harder at her glare. She shoved that down her throat to no avail.

                “I do, actually.” Brooklyn shot back as she pulled the toothbrush out, not in the mood for his shit. “If you didn’t like dicks up your ass so much maybe I’d show you.”

                Mickey looked like he wanted to kick the shit out of her, but settled for leaning against the wall and continuing to laugh at her pain. “Hey I’m not the one kneeling on the bathroom floor shoving shit down my throat now am I?”

                A pathetic moan was his only answer for a minute until she gathered herself enough to speak. “My heads going to explode, I hate my life. I hate these fucking comedowns they make me want to die.”

                “Serves you right.” Mickey said, not feeling sorry for her one bit. He warned her. “Thought you could handle your shit.”

                Her answering snarl just made him chuckle louder. She reached over and grabbed the leg of his pants, but he shook her off. He wasn’t in the mood for her touchiness right now, coke did that to him sometimes.

                When her world stopped spinning she gripped his shirt to heft herself to her feet, leaning heavily on him and resting her sweaty forehead against his shoulder. “Ugh. Bed.”

                “You expecting me to carry you?” His skin prickled from the feel of her flesh, but this particular touch he was used to and so he tried to tell himself to calm down. It was just the coke.

                “Please.” Her voice sounded so tired and sad, he almost did it. But in her fucked up state, any kind of fucked up state she was ever in, Brooklyn’s barely there physical boundaries became completely nonexistent. Her head fell to his shoulder again which he was used to, but because she was so god damn needy her hand found his and locked their fingers together for some kind of support that she needed, emotionally or physically he didn’t know. But with the coke making his thoughts race, his knuckles itch and his skin crawl he snapped. Ripping his hand away, he stepped back and growled.

                “God, why are you so fucking touchy all the time! Have you ever fucking heard of personal space? I’m not your real boyfriend so why do you have to put your paws on me constantly, Jesus!” Swiping his thumb over his lip, he watched the brunette flinch back and wobble a little before her eyes met his. And they were burning, so intensely with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her lower lip quivered for a second before her features shut down.

                He was expecting another snarky comment, something about how he was just so opposed to physical contact that he was the weird one or something that was the norm for her. But instead, she turned away from him and sat back down by the toilet. Her arms cushioned her head as she hid her face.

                Mickey watched her, and he knew he’d hurt her.

                But that was just too bad.

                It was what he did. He hurt people whether he wanted to or not and she fucking knew this so why was she so surprised? She think she was special or something? He left the bathroom, going over to the baggie and the book and blew another few lines before laying back and smoking a cigarette. Absently, he flipped the butterfly knife open and closed with one hand, barely looking. After a decent amount of time passed, and still not a peep from Brook, he lifted his head to peer into the bathroom. She hadn’t moved except to slump over on the floor. Shrugging off the slight guilt that was nagging at him for snapping at her, he laid back and let the irritation wash over him.

                Whatever. He was a dick. Nothing new. And if she didn’t have the sense to know when not to push him by now then that was her problem. Like, what was with the holding his hand? She did it to herself. He knew she didn’t mean to piss him off but fuck. As close as they’d gotten, she should know by now that physical affection wasn’t his thing. And no, there wasn’t any romance there but hell if he was gonna let her think he’d hold her hand whenever she was feeling down. She’d have to learn eventually. And if she wanted to take him telling her to back off up the ass, then fine. She could sleep on the cold bathroom floor.

                Mickey turned onto his side, crushing his butt into the ashtray and turning off the light. His knee jiggled restlessly, and he wished he wouldn’t have just done those lines because all he wanted to do was sleep and it seemed so far off now. The alcohol and coke combo had created a pleasant haze in his vision, the moonlight glaring off his walls seeming to shimmer slightly and he looked around a bit, enjoying the mental fog until his eyes eventually drifted onto the phoenix statue on the dresser. All he thought of until he fell asleep was how much things change, and yet they stay the same.

                -------------

                Ice blue eyes opened, taking in the fuzzy gray of early dawn. He shivered a little feeling the cold after effects of the coke on his body and shifted a bit to the left where Brooklyn’s body heat could creep over to him a bit easier.

                Except there was no body heat.

                Twisting his head he saw the bed next to him empty and sat up a bit, groggily rubbing his eyes. Grumbling under his breath, he threw his legs off the bed and stomped over to the bathroom, about to ream her out for being a stubborn little bitch and staying in the bathroom all night just to spite him because who cares if he was a dick, how fucking mature are you?

                But the sight of her curled into a little ball with her skinny fucking arms wrapped around her chest froze the words in his throat. He sighed. Why did he have to deal with this shit? He didn’t ask for this.

                Mickey nudged her with his foot. “Hey. Wake the fuck up.”

                Brooklyn shifted, but didn’t wake. Sighing deeply because what the actual fuck, he leaned down and shook her, speaking louder. He didn’t really care if it had taken a lot for her to fall asleep, she was being a petulant child. “HEY. Wake the FUCK up.” 

                Her eyelids fluttered, and the accusing glare she shot at him caused his back to straighten. “You coming to bed or what?”

                She shook her head, pressing her cheek against the cool floor and closing her eyes again.

                “Bitch.” He muttered, leaning down and gathering her in his arms. She didn’t want to come to bed, fine he’d fucking take her there himself. Not because he cared or anything. He was just damn cold.

                Except when he went to stand she pushed against him, slipping from his arms and landing what sounded painfully on the bathroom floor. A pained noise left her throat, but before he could comment she was on her feet and brushing past him, all but collapsing on the bed. Her message of ‘fuck you’ was loud and clear.

                Mickey went back to their bed, throwing a pillow at her head for good measure and turning his back to her. He pulled the blanket tighter. He didn’t fucking need her heat. He didn’t fucking need her shit. He didn’t ask for her to come into his life and settle in, needing him to help fix her broken pieces when he had his own to worry about.

                And that was what he kept telling himself as he fell asleep.

                -----------------

                The next few weeks passed uneventfully, with bitter glances and spiteful words when words were spoken, which was actually rare. Brook slept in the girls’ or Mandys' room most of the nights, staying as far from him as she could and only speaking to him when strictly necessary.

                And fuck it all if it wasn’t pissing him off.

                She wasn’t supposed to be the mean, surly one all the time. That was his role. But if she was gonna dish it, she was damn well gonna take it back tenfold. He gave better than he got, and it still got no rise from her. It was infuriating. At least her spastic reactions were genuine, he knew this coldness wasn’t in her nature.

                And that meant she really was that spiteful, or he’d really hurt her that bad. But how could he have? It wasn’t anything she didn’t already know. He’d pushed her off of him multiple times, had verbally told her not to touch him frequently. Yeah, sometimes he laid a little closer to her in bed, and maybe every now and then would shift his knee next to hers just for the comfort of having another person there. And maybe she had always silently known what he needed and respected that, when to get close and when to back off, but she should have known to back off that night. The silence and tension was really irritating the fuck out of him at this point. It wasn’t like her to hold a grudge.

                And fuck her because he’d tried to make peace that night. He tried to carry her to bed and she’d pushed him away so she didn’t even have ground to stand on. Fuck her. He didn’t have to explain anything to her, let alone make anything up to her.

                Mandy had decided she wanted to make Thanksgiving dinner for everyone, and had been working hard all day. Mickey threw food at her as she worked, laughing at her cusses and downing beers one after another, enjoying his day off. Brooklyn kept the girls out of Mandy’s hair by making those stupid hand turkeys.

                “You see Dad?” Mickey asked, feigning disinterest. The house had been much quieter, the meth smell fading over the last few weeks since Terry had been out most of the time. But he hadn’t shown his face at all over the last week, and that meant he was on a bender and there would be misery and pain to be expected when he resurfaced.

                “No. Last I heard he was out with some fucktard dealer of his.” Mandy answered, throwing all the dinner dishes onto the table with a little less care than she should. “Who cares.”

                “Well I don’t, but if the fuckers been gone this long there’ll be hell to deal with when he shows again.”

                Mandy shrugged, as if she didn’t want to think about it and Mickey let the subject drop. He kept pulling pieces of turkey from the platter when his sister wasn’t looking, and she’d smack him when she noticed. “Just fucking hold on okay it’s almost done! Go get Brook and the girls.”

                “Slut.” Mickey answered, ducking the attempted blow to his head and padding to the girls’ bedroom door. “Shit's ready come eat.”

                Avelyn ran excitedly to his feet, holding out her arms to indicate she wanted him to hold her. Scooping her up, he ruffled the tufts of black hair that were starting to look like actual hair now. She was running almost perfectly now. It was unbelievable how much she’d grown. At almost a year and three months now, she was getting closer to speaking better. She clung to him, as she had the last few weeks. The kids could sense the tension between him and Brook. Marley had even asked him why her mommy was so sad all the time again, and he’d sputtered for an answer. Almost considered squashing this shit. But she started it, so she was going to fucking end it.

               She shoved a hand turkey in his face with a look of pride on her own. “Tukee!”

               He took it, shifting her to one arm and holding it out to view. “Very good.”

               Burbling happily, Avvie giggled and nuzzled into his neck. He carried her into the kitchen, Marley following behind him and shoving her own turkeys towards him for his approval. Mickey played with the girls and their creations for a minute – really he just sat there and amusedly watched them viciously hit them against one another – before settling them into their seats for dinner before Mandy started bitching. Brooklyn appeared out of the girls’ room, not even looking at him and they all sat down for as close to a normal dinner as it was possible to have in that house.

               Some light conversation was had for a while, lots of food was eaten and a little bit thrown. Marley thought it was hilarious to shove mashed potatoes into Avvie’s face, and Avelyn retaliated by pouring gravy over her head. Spirits were lighter than normal and Mickey felt the indefinite foul mood of his for the last few weeks start to lift. Brooklyn had even cracked a smile at a sarcastic comment of his, and hell if that didn’t make him a little happy. If he was being honest, he really missed her. Missed their easy conversation, the effortless existence of mutual misery. They kept each other going.

              But when was he honest with anyone about how he felt, even himself? Some people don’t have that luxury and he was sure as hell one of them. He knew she missed him too, and she was weak when it came to that shit so she’d crack soon.

              Mandy accidentally burned the pie she’d made for dessert, so she was scooping some ice cream into dishes for the girls, cursing under her breath. Mickey was feeding Avelyn some more mashed potatoes, since she was being a little priss about eating certain things recently. If she didn’t like the texture of something, she spit it out. And made the most disgustingly adorable face while doing so. But mashed potatoes she loved.

             The air felt light, like the stupid holiday had lifted some of the tension. Mandy and Brooklyn cleaned up dinner while Mickey and the girls continued making a mess. Mandy eventually ducked out, saying she was going off to drink her face off with some guy she’d met at a party since it was the biggest drinking night of the year.

            “Since when do you need an excuse to drink your face off?”

            “I don’t, douche, but that’s why we’re going to the club.”

            “Yeah, have fun with that.”

            Marley was taping the hand turkeys together trying to make some kind of collage, and Avvie was content to rip them apart and even decapitate one or two after the older child taped them. Amber eyes glowed with frustration, but all she did was huff and pull them out of Avelyn’s reach. Brooklyn leaned against the kitchen frame as Mickey watched on in amusement.

            And because things seemed to be going so right for the night, they should have known it wasn’t going to stay that way.

            The door burst open, and the stench of drugs and body odor wafted through. In came Terry, no surprise there. Mickey tensed, casually slipping an arm around the back of his girls’ high chair and pulling it a bit closer to him protectively. Marley shrank into her chair, the loud noises frightening her.

            The man stopped, sneering. “How domestic.” Terry jibed, walking over to peer at the table. “No fucking dinner for me huh? Ungrateful little shits.”

            No one said anything in response. Terry was radiating danger more than usual this evening, His eyes were far away, like he wasn’t really there. But the usual spark of cruelty remained.

           “There’s more in the god damn fridge, go get some if you want it.” Mickey eventually replied, not liking one bit that Terry had begun to walk towards the table.

           “Did I say I was fucking hungry?” Terry snarled, stepping forward the last few paces to close the distance between him and his granddaughter. “Little girls getting fucking big. Surprised your faggot ass was man enough to actually make the little shit.” He peered down into her glacier eyes, suddenly fascinated by her. Avelyn stared right back, fidgeting nervously.

            Mickey and Brooklyn glanced at each other, panicking at Terry’s sudden interest in her. He’d barely even looked at her in the past. Mickey brushed off the comment, but the fact that Terry had even brought that particular subject up mean he was in deep shit. The two brunettes were too frozen to do much. Terry was like a wild animal. One wrong move and he’d snap.

            But when he reached out to touch Avvie’s face, with his fucking dirty ass hands, Mickey put himself in between his father and his daughter in a heartbeat.

           “Don’t lay a fucking finger on her.” Mickey warned, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. Terry’s upper lip curled, advancing towards his son.

            Brooklyn slowly moved forward snatching Avelyn from her highchair and backing up towards the hallway right as Terry spoke once more.

            “You’ve got some fucking nerve getting in my face, boy. Fuck you think you are, god damn aids monkey,” The joints in his shoulders cracked as he rolled them. “I put this roof over your and your Russian whore in the makings head.”

            “That don’t mean you gotta touch her.” Mickey knew he should regret the words almost as soon as they came out, and even more so when the fist collided with his face. But he didn't. Terry punched him a few times, before throwing him to the ground and slamming his head off the floor.

             And what could he fucking do but lay there and take it?

             He heard a high pitched scream from Marley and a terrified cry from Avelyn, and both Milkovich men’s heads turned toward the sound. Terry growled, stepping towards the girls threateningly, but Mickey grabbed his ankle and brought him down next to him again. Like hell was he going to touch those girls. His father jumped on top of him, wailing on him without mercy.

             Brooklyn scrambled back with the girls in her arms, trying to put as much distance between them and Terry as possible. She shoved them in their room, closing the door as fast as she could and turning back to the horrific scene. The sickening sound of wet flesh was echoing off the walls, and she watched in agony as Mickey’s face and torso became more and more bloody.

            Terry stood, spitting on the ground next to his sons head. Mickey turned his head to look at Brook, whose eyes were huge with fear and tears and she took a few steps forward, seeming like she wanted to do something but all Mickey saw in his head was Terry breaking the girls skull by throwing her or punching her and he shook his head and pointedly looked at the door to the girls room. She shook her head, taking another step forward with a fierce look on her face but the determined and warning look on Mickey’s face made her retreat into the bedroom with a sob. Right then Terry seemed to get bored with beating the daylights out of his kin. He kicked Mickey in the gut, went to the kitchen and downed two beers in a row before disappearing out the back door, slamming it so hard behind him the walls shook. Mickey winced, sitting up slowly. His stomach ached, his head was bleeding and he might have lost a molar from one of Terry’s punches. He could take a fucking beating, had his whole life, but it still sucked so much he wanted to break something from the unfairness of it. Rising to his feet, he spat out a mouthful of blood and dragged himself into the girls’ room, wanting to just get to them and lock the door before Terry decided to come back for round two.

            Which he inevitably would. Since he’d gone out the back he wasn’t gone, just not visible for the moment.

            Satisfied by the click of the lock Mickey surveyed the scene in front of him. Avvie was in her cradle screaming bloody murder and rattling the bars, Marley was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was hiding somewhere in terror. Brooklyn was openly sobbing, kneeling on the ground next to Avelyn’s cradle with her head in her hands. Mickey moved towards her, and her head snapped up. Relief flooded her features and she started to rise, but he collapsed next to her before she could.

            “Mick-“ She gasped, one hand reaching out to touch his face gently as if she were afraid to touch him.

             Which, shit, she probably was.

            “I’m fine, shut up.” He grimaced, shifting so he was plopped on his ass on the floor. He opened his arms without hesitation when Brooklyn fell forward, pulling her into him and half leaning on her for support. Her arms tightened almost painfully around his aching ribs but as much as he fucking hated to admit it, the comfort of her being so close again was so soothing he didn’t care. Somewhere along the line, he’d grown accustomed to her lack of personal space and had even begrudgingly missed it over the last few weeks. And that scared the shit out of him, because that meant if she left there’d be another piece of him missing. But that was the point of their relationship wasn’t it? They were all they had.

            “I’m sor-“

            “Brooklyn, seriously shut the fuck up. You ain’t got shit to be sorry for.” Mickey growled. What would even possess her to blame herself?

            “I could have…I could have tried to stop-“

            “Don’t **_ever_** get in his way. If something happens to me, you need to be okay. For them.” She shook her head, burying it in his shoulder but he grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “Promise.”

           “How am I supposed to just sit back and-“

            Not giving a shit he’d just cut her off three times in a row or allowing himself to feel bad about the pain in her features, his face contorted as he snarled at her. “Fucking promise me!”

           That god damn lower lip trembled again, but she nodded. Mickey crushed her to him again, knowing she was scared shitless right now. This was the first time she’d witnessed Terry’s violence, though it surely wouldn’t be the last. He felt something slam into his back, winding him before little arms wrapped around his neck.

          “Mickey!” Marley whined, big fat tears rolling down her red cheeks and her tiny little body shaking in terror. He lifted an arm to hug her as Brooklyn stood to grab Avelyn, pulling her in-between their bodies. It was ironic, their fucked up little family clinging to each other to absolve each other’s pain when none of them were the ones causing it. Avelyn’s little fingers clutched onto Mickey’s shirt and refused to let go for quite some time before eventually she cried herself into exhaustion. Marley wasn’t far behind Avvie, and Brooklyn had one hand fisted in the side of his shirt like if she let go he’d disappear.

           After a little while, he started aching even more from the position and went to stand. Avelyn panicked, wailing and clinging onto him tighter, screaming “NO, DADDY, NO!” like she thought he was going somewhere. Mickey’s face fell, holding her close and whispering to her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

            The girls were too traumatized to even accept that physical contact had to be eliminated for them to sleep, and even though they were both almost at the point of passing out whenever Mickey would move they’d both panic. Brooklyn stood, gathering all the pillows and blankets in the room and making a little nest on the floor. Mickey moved the girls with him, wincing at the extra strain on his sore body but pushing through it until they were all settled. Avelyn was curled tightly into his chest, Marley clung to his shoulder and Brooklyn laid her head on his hip with Marley’s feet over her stomach so as not to disturb the girls but still be close to him. She ran her fingers through Marley’s hair, trying to calm her down while Mickey stroked his girls soft spot over and over.

            They all lay in the dark, silently just happy that they were all there, and as safe as they could be. Mickey was safe. Bloody, but safe. Marley eventually gave in to the exhaustion of sleep, but Avelyn kept whimpering and startling herself awake every time she got close.

           Brook took her hand out of Marley’s hair, running her fingers up and down Avvie’s back in tandem with Mickey’s movements on her scalp. She began singly very softly, just loud enough that the scared baby Milkovich would hear her. When he recognized the song, Mickey’s eyes flashed to hers but she was staring intently at the baby, seeming lost in her own head.

          Ignoring the throb in his skull and his chest, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to go to sleep to the soothing sound of Brooklyn’s voice.

         “ _Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing is gonna be alright…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So as intense as some parts of this were I’m not super happy with it since its slightly filler to get from one point to another, but I didn’t want to make you guys wait any more so I’ll end up fixing some things eventually. The real show feels are too much! Sorry about any errors, not used to typing or formatting on this thing yet! Thanks for reading, feedback always appreciated =] Now to wait two torturous weeks for the next episode. Eek!


	6. Hold On To The Memory, It's All You've Got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many apologies, only excuse is that my life flipped upside down in the last few weeks. Anyways, here’s this! Hope you enjoy! I know NOTHING about the army so if anything seems wrong it fucking is. Just go with it. I don’t even know where the beginning of this came from, it just insisted on coming out and I missed him anyways so I guess it’s good he’s got his say. This is a long one, guys. I hope it makes up for the wait. Also, TRIGGER WARNINGS; Hard drug use and pain and frankly just this hurt to write and please read carefully. The lovely ArtsyAfrodite was kind enough to look over the first half of this that’s been written for a little while, but I had a burst of inspiration and spat out the rest tonight. It’s now 3 am, I’m too impatient to get this beta’d properly so any and all mistakes are mine and I will update to a fully edited version ASAP. 
> 
> Disclaimer; I do not own “The Hunger” by the Distillers, the inspiration of this chapter and this story(I'm sure it's obvious why). I absolutely recommend listening to it. Don’t own anything related to Shameless or anything else you recognize

_Holy eyes, I never knew I’d beg down at your feet_  
 _Hold on tight, I never knew_  
 _I'd know much more than this_  
 _Open sky, the wave of pain_  
 _The scent of you is bliss_  
 _Hungry eyes, they stare at me_  
 _I know, I know_  
 **_Don' go!_ **

* * *

                The sun set hours ago, but that didn’t mean drills were over. It only meant that now on top of being soaked straight through from the rain with mud drying into their clothes after being crudely woken up at 2 in the morning, the cold chill ran to the bone.

 

               And it was ironic. It was ironic, and it hurt because on this particular day, his bones were already so fucking cold he was amazed he hadn’t shattered like an ice sculpture yet. It was below zero beneath his flesh, under and inside of it where his heart used to be. Because that, his heart, had been torn out and left on a dingy doorstep back home where no one would even think to look for it let alone find it and rip him open and put it back in.

 

             Ian laughed out loud, the pounding of the rain and the soldiers bursting through the obstacle course drowning it out. Two years. Two long, cold years trying to bury _Ian_ and rebuild as a new _Gallagher_ and pretend that it didn’t remind him of the lust laden gasps of his surname from a certain dirty boys lips.

 

             He would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked he’d held out this long. But then again, what was there to hold out on? The promise of “we can still bang” wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. Not when he’d gotten a sliver of a glimpse of what could have been, not when he’d finally, _finally_ tasted those lips he’d dreamt of for two years. Not when Mickey had a fucking wife, and was more concerned with his shit head father being proud of his straight son than being with the only person to see and adore the real person behind the tattooed knuckles and gruff threats. Behind the pale, dirty skin and grimy clothes and fuck now he was getting hard thinking about what lay under those clothes and damn it all if two years later he didn’t still salivate at the idea of-

               

            A few shots pierced the night sky, signaling that the exercise was over. Ian fought the urge to drop to his knees in exhaustion. He was more than used to this by now. Mind over matter. Militant over mind. Because that’s what this all was really about, wasn’t it? Ian had known what mattered, and when what mattered decided he didn’t he put his mind over it, steeling himself and running off with his brother’s identity only for the military to break down his mind. To shatter him into a million tiny pieces so they could build him back up into what they wanted him to be. Yes sir, no sir. Don’t ask don’t fucking tell, because no one knew or wants to know. No one knew his god damn name let alone his sexual preferences, he wasn’t even sure if he knew himself anymore. All he knows is that two years later all he sees before slips into unconsciousness each night, tired and worn from the relentless training and breaking into more fragments of who he was, is ice blue eyes watering and those fucking lips he dreamt about for so long choking out, “Don’t…”

 

           And that was the real joke, right? He’d never know what “Don’t…” meant, what he wasn’t supposed to do, not now. It was too late now. Two years into his ( _four years, minimum)_ tour, he knew he was going to be deported soon. His family didn’t even know where the fuck he was, not really. They knew he was in North Carolina, on base and that was about it. He sent Mandy letters here and there to let her know he was still alive, sent Lip some as well since he couldn’t bring himself to face Fiona or the rest of his family. He got one back from Mandy every time, Lip had taken about a year and a few letters with pleads for forgiveness in them to finally answer his younger brother.

 

         Ian knew it was the principle of the matter. It wasn’t that Lip was angry that he’d taken his diploma and run with it, it was that he’d _left_ his brother without a word. And they didn’t do that, not Lip and Ian.

 

         They didn’t let each other down.

 

         Until Ian did, and how could he ever fix that? So he kept trudging through to mud, into his barrack for a shower because even if he wanted to, even if he could find the courage he’d always prided himself on to go home and face all he’d left, he couldn’t.

 

         Four years, minimum indeed.

 

         So he kept his head help high, responded to “Lip” almost automatically these days and can hardly grasp onto the shattered memories of _Ian_ and who he was. He can’t let himself think about it too much, except when he has to fuel his inner fire to keep going.

               

         And god, but this shit was getting exhausting. This perfectly extravagant web of lies he’d woven for himself. A spider getting trapped in its own web because it was spun for someone else but somehow he’d mangled himself instead.

 

         Story of his damn life. His feet mindlessly carried him to the showers and he stripped down, pulling the curtain around him and welcoming the burn of the too hot water. He couldn’t be bothered to turn the temperature down, his outside might as well burn like his insides did.

               

         Those fucking eyes were haunting him again, and Ian swallowed the choking lump in his throat until it churned bile in his stomach. He leaned his head against the cool tile wall, lids slipping closed and he did something he’d only allowed himself to do a handful of times before because it fucking _hurt_ even if it was a different kind of pain than those impossibly wet eyes brought. Ian thought of those eyes, twinkling in laughter as the owner of said orbs cracked a dirty joke. Studying him, warily but intensely curious. Glaring, infuriated and jealous. Burning, passionate and wanting.

 

          That last image did things to him he was almost ashamed to admit because after all this time it should have at least dulled the ache inside of him for that damn boy that kept curling into his grasp and then slipping through his fingers. Almost figured out, then been shoved back to square one. Like a damn Rubik’s cube. That’s what Mickey was. You get a whole side figured out, fuck it up. Fix it, and then another side, then another one and you get so damn excited because you’re finally _getting_ somewhere before you realize that you moved the wrong square on the other side to try and make sense of this side and you throw the cube because you _almost fucking had it_ and now you’re so angry you have to start again.

 

             Starting again wasn’t an option. Ian refused to do that, to be his toy on the side while some random whore got to share his bed every night and be in his life every day for no other reason than, well she was now his wife and was supposed to be there. And that word – _wife_ \- made Ian want to be sick, so instead he focused on the times before that horrible day she’d come bursting into their lives following Terry’s demented orders. Focused on the times right before that, where touching and closeness was more acceptable, almost welcomed. When Mickey’s eyes laughed and shone at him instead of gutted him from the inside out. When those lips were red and swollen from panting and efforts to keep quiet instead of split and busted from his father’s fists and the barrel of a gun.

 

                Ian moved his body further under the stream of hot water, letting it drop down the curves and dips of his back as his long fingers curled around his now throbbing member. His wrist twisted and moved in that steady, sure pace one has when they touch themselves. Knowing the exact pressure and speed to obtain the feeling he was chasing while vividly conjuring mental images so clear they made him want to cry.

 

_“Gallagher!”_

_That was all Ian really needed to hear to get his ass moving, kneeling quickly to mumble a half assed apology to Ned before turning tail and chasing the reason he was running._

_They didn’t stop, slipping through alleys and messing with each other. Chasing, and laughing; throwing each other into walls and hurdling out feet to trip the other up. Gripping hair strands and pulling in just the right way, cuffing on the back of the head way too gently to be considered malicious. They ran until they couldn’t breathe, and then ran some more._

_Their feet carried them to the abandoned buildings, Mickey gliding up the steps two at a time with Ian hot on his heels. This little chasing game was fun, but he was more than ready for a different kind of fun and if the look on Mickey’s face when he’d walked up to him and Ned before all of this was any indication, this was going to be fucking **fun**._

_Reaching the area they’d turned into a training space Mickey darted around one of the obstacles, clearly fully intending to keep this game up. But Ian’s dick had been almost painfully hard since he’d seen the look set into Mickeys features before his head collided with Ned’s face. The jealousy._

_Mickey was fucking jealous._

_And Ian was insanely touched and turned the fuck on._

_With a burst of speed, he caught up to the brunette and grabbed him by the hips to turn and slam him into the wall. Mickey grunted, eyes closing for a second before whipping back open and staring him down like he was daring him to make a move._

_“Jealous, Mick?” Ian couldn’t help but taunt, leaning in to nibble on the ex-cons ear with just the slightest pressure as his hips pressed down against the smaller boys._

_“Like fuck.” Mickey retorted, but the possessive arm that was thrown about Ian’s waist, tugging him close and grinding their hard ons together contradicted his words._

_Because that was what Mickey Milkovich was. A beautiful, disastrous contradiction. And Ian couldn’t get enough._

_The gentle nibbling turned into a sharp nip, and when his lips trailed down to the pale expanse of skin across Mickey’s jugular Ian sank his teeth in and sucked for all he was worth. Mickey groaned, his fingers digging into Ian’s side in a way that should have been painful but just made the redhead even more flush with desire. Mickey’s fingers had his belt undone in a flash, hands shoving into his pants and gripping him before Ian could blink._

_And it was so good, so all consuming that Ian wondered for a moment why he even tried to kid himself into thinking moments with Ned and Ralph and anyone else could even compare. Why he wasted his time when everything he could ever want was right here, jerking him off like there was no tomorrow and writhing against him. Ian moaned in response to the less than gentle tugs, fumbling a bit in his haste to get Mickey’s pants off and out of the way. Mickey pulled his hand away, rocking up on his feet to latch onto Ian’s neck just below his ear with a ferocity that even surprised himself._

_“Fuck, Mick…”_

_Mickey grinned, sucking once more for good measure and lapping at the angry red mark that was no doubt blossoming on Ian’s neck before swiftly turning around and bracing himself against the wall. Ian pressed up against his back and didn’t even hesitate, didn’t bother preparing because if Mickey wanted this to be brutal and primal and possessive, that’s what he was going to fucking get. He just spat into his palm, slicking himself up and pushed into Mickey’s entrance with a death grip on the boy’s hips. Mickey basically keened in pleasure, back arching and head falling back onto Ian’s shoulder in a way that could not be comfortable but it allowed Ian to bite and suck at the tender skin under his jaw so he wasn’t complaining. The pace Ian set wasn’t fast and pounding like their usual, but nowhere near tender and soft either. It was deep, and hard and it was fucking ownership and Ian didn’t know if he was claiming Mickey (because Mickey had just all but given him permission to by crashing Ian’s date) or if Mickey was claiming Ian, sucking him into his tightness so far Ian thought his dick was just going to be swallowed whole and lost forever inside this beautiful boy (Ian had all but given Mickey permission to own him since he’d looked up at Mickey’s hard eyes turn into storming lust as he dropped the crow bar and tugged his shirt off)._

_Pants and gasps and groans were echoing off the walls. Ian tightened his grip on the boy’s hips, leaning in to bite the flesh where Mickey’s shoulder met his neck as his hips rolled in just the right way to shoot a thrill of warmth up his spine._

_“Fuck! Gallagher, right- right there.”_

_And Ian didn’t shift, he kept pushing into that spot inside of him that turned Mickey into fucking mush in his arms, eyes rolling into their sockets as his head lolled on his shoulder and Ian wanted to kiss him so badly. His lips were red a swollen from Mickey’s constant biting abuse of them, but Ian knew that wasn’t possible so instead he locked an arm on the boys chest to hold him firmly in place as he rotated his hips in a swift circle._

_A choked noise left the dark haired boy, as his hand rose to grip the back of Ian’s neck. “G-Gallagher-!”_

“GALLAGHER!!”

 

                Ian snapped to attention, handing dropping from his weeping cock so fast it was like it burned him. His insides turned, flipping funnily about like they’d been burned too and were squirming for something, _anything_ , to extinguish this fire inside of him. He poked his head out of the shower curtain, hoping that he hadn’t been making any noise that would give away what he’d been doing,

 

                “What?” He growled, eyes moving up and down to take in the intruder.

               

                One of his troop members, Ryan, stood before him in a nothing but a towel. His head was cocked to the side, a look of annoyance on his face. If Ian hadn’t been so consumed by thoughts of his past love he probably would have had to stop and take a moment to appreciate the sight before him.

 

                “No need to get snippy, I called your name like five times. Can I get some soap, I’m out and need to go down to the shops on base to get some more tomorrow.”

 

                Scowling, Ian ducked back inside the curtain and grabbed his bar of soap. Turning the water off because if that wasn’t a mood killer he didn’t know what was.

               

                Ryan caught the soap as it was thrown as his head, raising an eyebrow as Ian stormed past him back to the bunks, still dripping wet with a towel just barely hanging off his bright red happy trail.

               

                Ian had to laugh once it was done, once he was dried and dressed and laying in his bunk staring up at the blank ceiling.

 

                Because _Gallagher_ was all he’d been before. Never _Ian_ , just Gallagher.

               

                So Gallagher it is.

               

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

_“G-Gallagher-!” Mickey panted, moving his hips back into the thrusts of the redhead behind him. The boy had his arm around his torso, crushing him back into his long body and squeezing the air from Mickey’s lungs and he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest because fuck, that felt good. And Ian was always pushing the air out of him so fast it made him dizzy in one way or another, so he’d grown accustomed to the feeling. “Faster.” He commanded, pumping his hips with a bit more speed trying to get the boy to comply because Ian had all control in this situation._

_Ian chuckled, breath hot on the wet spot he left under Mickey’s jaw and his pace slowed in punishment. “You’ll take what I fucking give you.”_

_Mickey opened his mouth to protest, to tell him fuck off because he didn’t call the shots here, Mickey did. But then the image of that geriatric viagroid leering at his Firecrotch and calling him Gingersnap popped into his head and a vicious half growl, half feral whine left his throat as Ian made him see stars with a particularly deep thrust. And yeah, he would take it because it felt great even if it wasn’t as fast as he wanted, but somehow that seemed to get the message Ian was sending across even clearer._

_**I’m all yours. All you have to do is be mine, too.**_

_Mickey’s fingers gripped Ian’s neck tighter, his free hand dropping to desperately jerk himself towards release but Ian batted it away with a huff of annoyance. His legs slid a little closer together, eyes crossing as it changed the angle and he felt every inch of Ian as he slid in and out. Ian hummed his appreciation at the new angle, tongue flicking out to trace the shell of Mickey’s ear. They were practically spooning standing up._

_“Take it?” Ian murmured hotly, his hips rolling steadily, the hand locked around Mickey caressing every inch of his torso that he could. His fingers paused, curling into the flesh over Mickey’s heart that was thumping wildly against his sternum._

_And Mickey felt sick, because that was definitely a question. It wasn’t a filthy command, it was a heated, fucking loaded question._

_All he could do was lift one hand off the wall, trusting Ian to hold him steady as his palm slammed into the back of Ian’s hand that was over his heart. His fingers curled around the redhead’s, and at the sound of Ian’s shocked gasp the tendrils of pleasure burst inside of him so powerfully he couldn’t breathe._

 

                _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

                Mickey jolted awake, sitting up at the waist as one hand rose to clutch at his palpitating heart and pretending something else made that pathetic, gut wrenching noise that just tore itself from his throat. It hurt to breathe, hurt to remember, and the images swimming in his brain felt like they were devouring his very fucking soul. He blinked rapidly, trying his damndest to clear the wetness that was _not_ there and glanced at the body beside him as it moved and reminded him of its presence.

 

                Brooklyn was curled on her side, facing him. Big sapphire eyes fluttering sleepily, she sat up with a bit of hesitance in her gaze. Her mouth opened to say something, but one glance at the look on his face and it snapped shut. Her features crumbled, and she stared at him not knowing what to do. She didn’t want to reach out to him, most of the time Mickey was like a wild animal who would go berserk if you tried to touch him when he was in the wrong state (most of his states were the wrong state). Normally she ignored those boundaries, but something told her right now was not the time for that. Confusion took over, and she wondered what it was that had the stoic man so choked up but she didn’t dare ask.

 

                Mickeys heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest, his throat felt like it was closing more and more each second that passed and he couldn’t fucking breathe. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t get in air. All he could do was feel that bruising grip on his hips, that amazing cock in his ass and that possessive hand over his heart like it fucking owned it. And to feel all of that again, only to wake up and realized it was his brain conjuring up old memories in dreams was torture. Pure, unfair torture to feel that unconditional _understanding_ , that belonging again only for it to be torn away was just cruel. When he glanced at his alarm to see the time and he saw the date (two years since the fucker walked out the door on the dot), he bit his bottom lip so hard blood dribbled down his chin to stop the tears from falling. His shoulders tensed, fists clenched in the sheets and his eyes shook a bit in his effort to keep that wetness contained. Storms of unspoken and ignored emotions raged in his blue eyes so intensely Brooklyn’s breath caught.

 

               Brooklyn just sat there, watching him break down and at a loss for what to do until he leaned into her. He didn’t fall into her embrace, didn’t sob brokenly into her and let everything go. Just leaned his forehead against her shoulder and matched his breathing to hers, while she curled one hand into his hair and stroked soothingly, laying them back on the bed. She didn’t say it was okay, didn’t mumble hushed assurances because she didn’t want to spook him. This was a miracle that he was even allowing himself to feel this although it didn’t really seem like he was allowing it. It was bursting inside of him and demanding to be felt, whether he allowed it or not clearly.

 

              So she just stroked his hair and let him feel and know that she was there should hell freeze over and he wanted to talk. Let him know that she was there to ground him, his one and only solid, real thing in this world right now.

 

              Mickey buried his face in her chest, tucking his chin down against her breast so she couldn’t see his expression anymore. This was fucking embarrassing and he tried his damndest to get himself under control, but the harder he tried the tighter his chest grew until he felt like he was suffocating with his efforts not to break down. The hot liquid finally was too much, and spilled from his eyes. It pooled on Brooklyn’s shirt as they fell silently, but she didn’t say a word. Just kept stroking his head, chin on the top of his of it as one arm wrapped around him. And fuck, he felt so pathetic and _broken_ , and he was infuriated with himself for his lack of control of this horrifyingly open show of his damn feelings but this was Brooklyn. If anyone was on his side it was she and he knew she wouldn’t judge him or think less of him.

 

             The tears wouldn’t stop, it was like a crack in a dam and he just wasn’t able to stop fucking leaking. But with every one that fell, Mickey felt like he could breathe a tiny bit more. They lay like that, and Mickey ignored the voice in his head that was screaming that he was pitiable. Here he was, curled against this tiny girl who was clutching his world together right now, _holding_ him and offering silent comfort that normally he wouldn’t accept.

 

             But it was two years on the dot, and no one had been here when Ian left. He’d broken down silently, kept his hell inside and buried it. Last year, Avelyn had been only a few months old and he’d clung to her all day for the heat of her body, the comfort that he was not alone without admitting to himself that’s what he was doing because he had this precious little life to worry about so he wasn’t allowed to feel things like crushing loss or the whispers inside of his head that told him he didn’t want to be around her right now, not now. But he had nothing else, so he’d hung onto to her desperately despite his inner turmoil.

 

            Now, though. Now Brooklyn was here, and she’d taken some of the burden off his shoulders without even meaning to. He wasn’t alone in this, didn’t have to be so fucking high and mighty and strong every second and right now he just couldn’t be those things. So he just kept his face in her chest, the seemingly unending river of tears streaming down his face and he could have laughed because this had been building up for two years now and he wasn’t going to freak out or sob brokenly or confess everything ripping him apart from the inside out.

 

             But with Brook’s little arms clutching him close, her unspoken solace and his knowledge that this was finally okay, he could finally let a little bit of his torment out; he couldn’t pull away if he tried.

       _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

             The next few days passed in a blur. Christmas was coming fast, and although Mickey had been in a distinctively foul and eerily calm mood it only showed how much he was regressing into himself. Avvie had been especially clingy, sensing her father’s distance and as much as he kind of hated himself for it he couldn’t bring himself to spend as much time with her as he should over those few days. He adored and cherished his daughter with everything he knew how to give, but at this particular time of the year dealing with this particular wound he had to swallow his disgust at himself at the knot that formed in his stomach when she looked at him. Because even though she was his spitting image, she still represented an event that he still hadn’t allowed himself to deal with.

 

               And it hit a little too close to home than he’d like to admit, so he loathed himself a little more every time his girl came up to him with a huge smile and he watched that smile fall into a broken hearted expression every time he couldn’t hold her or be close to her or be her fucking _Dad_ like he should have. She’d basically attached herself to Brook like a little human barnacle, and Brook took her and soothed her with gentle reassurances as she looked at him with sad eyes that twisted the knot in his guts a little deeper inside of him.

 

                But nothing could even compare to this emptiness, this god damn _hole_ in his chest right where those stupid feelings he wasn’t supposed to have dwelled. This aching, consuming hunger for what he hadn’t known he’d miss so terribly until it was beyond his reach was eating him alive. Despite her almost miserable glances his way here and there, Brooklyn didn’t push him and for that he was grateful. Because the bitch always pushed him past his limit, but she seemed to know that this was one line that he couldn’t cross.

 

                Mandy understood, of course. She was well aware of what this time of year marked, and she was in a downtrodden mood herself but as so busy with school and work that she was hardly around. Mickey suspected she’d picked up extra hours or just made plans to get out of the house specifically to avoid him. And as much as he hated that sting of annoyance, he couldn’t hold it against her. They’d gotten close again, Mandy had of course eventually begrudgingly forgiven him but it was still painful for her and he thought she still kinda blamed him.

 

                He couldn’t hold that against her either, because truthfully he still kind of blamed himself.

 

                It was Christmas Eve, and he’d run into Mandy running out the door as he made his way up the front steps. He gripped her arm to stop her, and swung her to face him.

 

                “Ey! Where the fuck are you goin’?” He asked gruffly, dropping her hand and rubbing his lower lip with his thumb anxiously. His eye flicked from the floor to her face, he couldn’t read her properly right now and didn’t really know now to act around her.

 

                Mandy smiled a little at him, tucking her long dark hair behind her ear. “Going to Lydia’s for the night, she needs her hair done and help finishing wrapping her presents for her kids.” She explained, not really able to meet his eyes. He knew who Lydia was, her friend from school that had a few little rug rats. She and Mandy had gotten close over the last few months, Mandy seeming to attach to a new life outside of what she’d been surrounded by for years. And they’d never been best fucking friends, but Mandy was his sister and his favorite sibling and he was proud as shit of her for her determination to make something of himself but hell if he didn’t miss her since she was never really there much anymore. Probably his fault too.

               

                He kind of grunted in acknowledgment of her words, and shuffled his feet a bit and wanted to hit himself for the awkward gesture. He fucking hated this. Hated this weird air between Mandy and himself right now, and didn’t know how to fix it.

 

                Her smile softened a bit as she finally looked up to catch his gaze, reaching out and touching his shoulder gently. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Brook’s in the girl’s room pretending to let Marley wrap presents.” Mickey had this strange, torn expression on his face before he muttered grumpily.

               

                “Fucking Christmas.” He hated Christmas and everything it stood for right then.

 

                Mandy quirked an eyebrow, dropping her hand from his arm before smirking at him as something in her eyes shone in sorrow, understanding and probably pity. His stomach rolled, but he’d been feeling nauseous since he woke up in whatever the fuck that was the other night. She punched his shoulder lightly before speaking. “If I know you at all, you didn’t fucking prepare for this because you’re selfish so you should probably go get some presents.

I know you don’t care, but the kids.” As if that explained everything, because it kind of did.

 

                He nodded a bit solemnly, trying to suppress his wince at the thought of going shopping on Christmas Eve. But with the way he’d been treating Avvie especially lately, he needed to do everything in his helpless power to make it up to her. “Yeah. Fucking fun.”

               

                Shrugging, Mandy started to walk off. “Whatever. See ya, fuckface.” And she flipped him off as she disappeared but Mickey felt a tiny little bit of reassurance. Because she’d tried, and that meant she didn’t completely hate him and that was more than he deserved in his opinion.

 

                This little encounter and the realization that he had to go fucking Christmas shopping darkened his already pitch black mood even more. The blue eyed man pushed his way into his house, not caring to stop the door from slamming behind him and walking straight into his room to grab some money from his stash. He hadn’t noticed where the rest of the girls were, and tugged his work shirt over his head to get the fucking Kash N Grab smell off of him. Mickey was just pulling a plain gray long sleeved shirt over his head when he felt an insistent jerk on his pants leg and he half jumped in the air. Eyes flashing down in surprise, he met the innocent gaze of his daughter and couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare sadly at her as she opened her arms invitingly to him.

 

                “I gotta go, kid. Can’t hold ya right now.” He mumbled lamely, averting his gaze as her features rearranged into one of slightly angry confusion. Looks like even she was sick of his shit.

 

                “No! Daddy!” Avelyn whined, big blue eyes filling instantly with tears but she was his daughter and she was starting to catch his demeanor so she stubbornly held them at bay. Mickey knew it wasn’t long before her will power crumbled and she couldn’t abstain anymore. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

                Fuck, he couldn’t even look at his own daughter for longer than ten seconds was she was practically sniveling at his feet and begging for his attention. He really was a special brand of fucking asshole. Poor girl must feel so abandoned right now, and that self-loathing only tripled inside of him when he couldn’t bring himself to just get over it and pick her up. “Go to Brook, Avelyn.”

 

                Her tiny foot stomped in defiance as her grip on his pants tightened. “No! Daddy! No fair!” Avelyn cried as a few of those tears slipped free and his eyes opened, taking in her devastated expression with a tight chest.

 

                Mickey grit his teeth and forced a deep breath, mentally repeating to get the fuck over himself and ease the suffering of his damn daughter before he fucked her up more than she was already destined to be. Every inch of his body screamed, and it made him sick all over again because what kind of father couldn’t comfort his crying baby girl? This thought brought out the tenderness in he felt for her that was so overwhelming he managed to use it to make himself kneel before her and gently cup her face. He looked sincerely into her eyes, pleading silently for her fourteen month old brain to just _get it_ as he whispered to her in a choked voice. He giving as much as he possibly could right then. “I’m going out, baby. I’m sorry.” He caressed her plump cheek for a moment, feeling the wetness there and if he’d thought he couldn’t hate himself anymore, boy was he giving himself a rude awakening.

 

                Avelyn of course couldn’t understand, and started throwing a fit that he stood up and walked away from with a heavy heart. Her screams echoed in his skull, and he brushed past Brooklyn who appeared before him with a worried look on her face.

 

                “What’s wrong with her?” Brooklyn had flour in her hair, he didn’t even want to know why. She must have seen something in his face because she froze and stared at him with wide, unsure eyes like she had the other night.

 

                Ashamed of himself, he snapped his eyes to hers. “I just…I’m going out. I…I can’t do this right now.”

               

                And when she just nodded numbly, face mirroring the lost and bewildered look Avelyn had just given him he grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him. That was how, two hours and at least a fourth of a pack of cigarettes later he found himself at the little mini mall in the less shitty part of town with a few bags on his arms. He’d picked up some toys and child shit for the kids. Some porn, a nowhere near fancy new mp3 player for Mandy with some decent head phones, a few bottles of liquor and a handful of other tiny shit. Now, he was at the height of irritation standing in front of a shelf in a book store that was closing in ten fucking minutes trying to figure out what the hell to get Brooklyn. It was her birthday three days after Christmas, so he couldn’t slack on this as much as he’d love to because she’d been so grossly thoughtful for his birthday that he felt like he owed it to her now. That annoyed the piss out of him, but it was actually a welcomed distraction so he dealt with it. She liked to read, he knew that. For the life of him he couldn’t manage to put together any kind of idea what to get her and it pissed him off how effortlessly thoughtful she always was because how the hell could he even come close to getting something good enough for her. He’d gotten her a bad ass Misfits shirt – he had ended up stealing that big, ripped up one she had that he’d admired that one night- but that didn’t really count since he was replacing something.

 

                When an announcement went over the loudspeaker that the store was closing and to bring your final purchases up front, Mickey let out a string of profanities that got him a few appalled glares that he answered by flipping the bird and maybe childishly sticking his tongue out. They didn’t fucking know him.

 

                Reaching the breaking point of his frustration, he quickly scanned the back covers and summaries. A few ideas and words stuck out to him, and he tucked a few under his arm. One was about drugs, one seemed like some tragic love story and the other was some brightly colored trippy looking shit and he figured she’d like them and if she didn’t oh well. Although, he kind of wanted her to like them.

 

                After paying for the books – yeah, apparently he actually _paid_ for shit on a regular basis now what the fuck was his life? - He stalked out of the store and glanced around. He still wanted to get one more thing for Marley, and wasn’t sure what until his eyes found the comic book store a few shops down and he wandered in. The comic store turned out to be a fanfuckingtastic idea, because not only did he find a weird looking doll Avelyn would love and a Harley Quinn doll that Marley would just die over, he ended up finding three more presents for Brooklyn. An old, original copy of ‘The Crow’ comic book – he was positive he’d made a good decision with that one since the girl had a quote from it tattooed on her damn shoulder- and a voluptuous action figure in bright yellow with purple hair. Mickey wasn’t even sure how his brain retained this information, but he remembered when they’d been trying to come up with a name for Avelyn she’d thrown the name Faye out there and told him why, so when he saw the action figure on the shelf with the show name clearly stated on it – how else would he fucking know what it was- he’d grabbed that as well. Finally, he’d been walking by the discount movie bin when a title stood out and he snatched that too. One night something about a bag of Doritos had caused her to laugh and say something about the movie ‘Wayne’s World’ which he’d never seen but she assured him he would find hilarious because it was apparently impossible not to, and how she hadn’t seen it in forever. So he got that too, feeling slightly embarrassed that he remembered such things and hoping for the sake of his own mortification that all four girls liked what he’d gotten.

 

                _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

                The next morning, Mickey sat on the couch with his arms crossed and a pinched look on his face like the Grinch himself. It didn’t help matters that Avelyn was walking on eggshells around him, Marley was too smart for her own good and was doing the same and Brooklyn seemed to be in quite a mood herself this morning. And that bugged him for some unknown reason, because he knew for a fact that Christmas was her favorite holiday.

 

                The two young girls went first naturally, tearing open their colorfully wrapped- by Mandy and Brooklyn of course, Mickey had made them wrap the kids’ presents this morning because he did not wrap shit-and squealing with joy at their new toys. Marley ran over and hugged him when she opened her Harley doll, and he managed to not totally flinch away from her as his skin crawled at the close contact of anything right now. Avelyn sort of shuffled over to him with big eyes, holding out the doll he’d just given her uncertainly. Mickey frowned, making himself reach out to her and pull her in for a quick embrace before just barely managing to press a half assed kiss to her temple and gently shoving her towards Mandy who thankfully distracted the baby with her own present for her.

 

                Mandy, who was helping Marley pull on her new Snow White dress up outfit with one hand and tickling Avelyn with the other, insisted that Brooklyn open her presents before she did. Brooklyn argued, but Mandy glared and no one fucked with that glare so Brook reluctantly caved. She gingerly opened Mandy’s gifts, some clothes and a bunch of girly shit he didn’t understand but made Brook grin almost happily at her. When Mickey tossed a big box taped closed at her, she arched and eyebrow but didn’t comment as she peeled the tape away.

 

                For Mandy and Brooklyn’s presents, he’d just thrown them all into individual boxes before throwing all of the smaller boxes into a big one because he was lazy like that. He just sat and watched, half indifferent and half curious to what her reaction was going to be because he hadn’t ever actually gotten anything for the girl before.

 

                After a few seconds Brooklyn conquered the slightly obnoxious amounts of tape, and flipped the top flaps opens. Her inquiring eyes flicked into the box, and something changed in her instantly. She completely froze, every muscle in her body utterly still and her eyes uncharacteristically void. Her stupid lower lip trembled in the stupid way it did before she cried, and her eyes snapped to his confused ones as his spine straightened with sudden, inexplicable concern. Something was very, very wrong.

 

                Sapphire turned to raging stormy oceans before him, and Brooklyn literally crumpled before his eyes before pulling herself together enough to cover her face as she curled into her knees and sobbed openly.

 

                And Mickey was really fucking angry, because what the fuck was that? What was in there that caused that strong of a reaction, she hadn’t even opened any box except the main one! And he was panicking, because sure Brooklyn was soft hearted but she never let herself get like this in front of the girls if she could help it. And to see her so quickly give up, not even try to hide it, shook him more than he was willing to admit because of course somehow this was _his fucking fault as usual_ and just fuck _everything_.

 

                As Mickey rose to his feet, unable to deal with this so of course he was making a quick exit Marley stood and ran to her mother, throwing her arms around her and looking up at Mickey with wide shiny eyes. “What you do, what you do!?” She asked, terror tainting her voice as her mother broke down in front of her. Avelyn quickly started crying, and Mandy grabbed her to hold her close and press her mouth into the baby’s hair, watching the scene in front of her with a frozen, questioning gaze.

 

                Marley’s question made that ever familiar gut wrench happen, and Mickey just couldn’t take it anymore. Blocking out the hysterics around him, he stormed off into his room and immediately began smashing everything within his reach. Lamps, glass ash trays, he was pretty sure he just hurled his bong against the bathroom door but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was seething. Completely enraged, and wild, and why the fucking was this happening? He couldn’t fucking do anything right. That much was obvious at this point. He snarled, and smashed his fists into the wall so many times he lost count before the aching in his hands made him stop.

 

                And god dammit he had to at least try, he owed her that damn much so with his knuckles dripping blood and the angry grimace still etched into his features he stomped back into the living room. Mickey gently pulled Marley off of the still mysteriously mess of a woman her mother currently was, urging her towards Mandy as he collapsed to his knees beside her and crushed her shuddering body into his chest.

 

                Immediately Brooklyn’s arms wrapped around his neck, just like he’d known they would. She reveled in physical touch, and he knew it so he forced himself to ignore the prickling and anxious nerves jumping along his skin and tightened his arms, sliding his nose into the hair next to her ear. She clung to him, curling up and sniffling pathetically into his neck and he was so _frustrated_ because _why?!_ In a low, wrecked voice he choked out, “What did I do?”

 

                The tortured blue eyes that locked onto his punched an uncomfortable tightness into his lungs, and he sucked in air viciously. Her lips moved like she was trying to form words but nothing intelligible was coming out except soft wounded noises that were making him want to throw up and hit himself in the balls at the same time. She shook in his arms and he something inside of him just snapped and he couldn’t fucking do this anymore. He destroyed everything he touched, and over the last few days he’d managed to hurt everyone who cared about him while beating himself up over demolishing the only other person to ever give two shits about him.

 

                And he was done.

 

                He withdrew his arms from around Brooklyn like she’d burned him, and was grabbing his coat and running out the door for the second time in less than twenty four hours before he screamed. And if he screamed, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to stop.

 

                Running away from his problems had always been what he was best at, anyways. And despite the –not so- small part of him that was internally kicking himself in the ass for turning tail and ditching yet again, the painful thumping of his heart in his mind and ears led his feet farther and farther away from his house. He didn’t know where he was going, had no thoughts except the gripping, utter _despair_ he was drowning in.

 

                Mickey was out of strength to deny it, out of a single ounce of will power to hold himself together. And before he even knew where he was going, his feet led him to what must have been his subconscious destination because a small, bitter smile broke his face as he looked at the doorstep in front of him. He’d unknowingly walked to a house he’d frequented a few times before his first stint in Juvie, and even a time or two before the second. It was David, his old dealer’s house. And he was a lowlife drug dealer, and he was a total piece of shit that couldn’t possibly have any family left that wanted anything to do with him so he had to be home on Christmas Day.

 

                He was knocking on the door before he even knew what he was doing, his heart thudding wildly in excitement at the prospect before him. The door swung open and a tall, washed out man with dirty blonde hair stood before him. A disbelieving grin split David’s face as he took in the relief on Mickey’s features, knowing this unexpected visit was going to end well for him. It always used to when Mickey showed up. He grinned rather cheekily at the unfortunate soul in front of him with a rabid look in his eyes.

 

                “Mickey fucking Milkovich. Long time no see. Heard ya had a kid.” David spoke conversationally, one eyebrow raised in expectance.

 

                Mickey stiffened, and crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth worried his lower lip to the point that it hurt, before he steeled himself and made his decision. Responsibility be damned. His voice wasn’t much more than a hollow croak when he opened his mouth finally. “Ya, man. But uh, anyways, you got?” There was a slight tremor to his voice that he ignored, the need already flaring urgently inside of him. He needed this. God, he needed this so bad. His fingers twitched eagerly.

 

                And David just smiled knowingly, opening the door a bit wider to allow Mickey to step inside. “I got gold, man. Fucking gold.”

               

                Mickey couldn’t bring himself to give a shit as he stepped inside without even blinking, trembling hands already reaching for his wallet. He gave David a little extra for supplies because he had detoxed himself and refrained for years so he didn’t have any. Pockets loaded with what he was sure was going to give him his sanity back, he stumbled kind of blindly in his hurry to a deserted spot under the El bride. Parking himself on the sidewalk bathed in shadow, he was a little ashamed of how easily his fingers tied the tourniquet around his lower bicep to cut off the circulation. A little horrified at how he didn’t hesitate for a second before heating the substance up and pulling back the end of the syringe to suck the beautiful release into it. Definitely was a little disgusted at how eagerly he shoved the needle into the vein he remembered was the biggest so it worked the fastest, thumbing the plunger quickly and injecting the substance. His eyes fluttered, dropping the used syringe by his feet and tugged the tourniquet loose. The fluttering of his lids ceased immediately as his eyes rolled back into their sockets in pleasure, head falling back and he couldn’t feel an inch of himself.

 

                Fuck, yes. This is exactly what he needed.

 

                He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, out of it and suffocating in the blissful thoughtless state he was floating along in. When he poked his head above the surface, tasting the bitterness of the reality he’d so successfully escaped insistently pushed at the edges of his fuzzy mind. He came to enough to realize that he was splayed on his back with his arms flung carelessly to his sides, vision a bit blurry and skin that felt like water, rippling along in a sea of glorious nothingness. With only a little bit of a struggle, he pulled himself to his feet and walked home, dazed and purely running on instinct. He couldn’t remember why he’d left, couldn’t remember what’d he’d done all he knew was that he was amazingly empty and that felt great.

 

                Eventually he somehow wandered up onto his porch, letting himself inside. The house was quiet and mostly dark except for the soft glow of the television. His hazy vision took in the sight of his sister and Brooklyn curled up on the couch in the dark with the little ones sandwiched between them, a suffocating silence hanging in the air that the crackle of noise of whatever they were watching didn’t quite manage to extinguish. Mickey vaguely registered a fleeting feeling of remorse before his veins pulsed and released another rush of the fog. His feet felt leaden and his body dead weight suddenly and he pushed one foot in front of the other determinedly in the direction of his room. He didn’t saw the small blob in the side of his peripheral shift and move towards him, and he tried as hard as he could to focus and recognize the colors in front of him but they were scattering so fast he couldn’t make sense of them. His body refused to respond to his much delayed mental processes, and he realized too late that Avelyn had jumped off the couch and flung herself at him.

 

                Mickey looked down at her, his heart doing a small lurch in his chest before slithers of oblivion came through again and he did nothing but stare down at his daughter with dead, soulless eyes.

               

                Avelyn took one look at her dad, took one second to feel the incredibly demolished and defeated energy coming off of Mickey and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks, Milkovich bravado from the previous night flying out the window as she thrashed against his legs. Frowning at the intrusive noise, Mickey blinked a few times before freeing his legs from her grasp and stumbling the rest of the way to his room. He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to drag himself past the bed that was so inviting. Something was in the bathroom. Something that his drugged mind told him he needed, and then he was there digging through an old magazine and grasping tightly onto a frayed picture that he couldn’t even really focus on. But he needed it, he felt a little bit more whole with that glossy paper in his fingers. Staggering the rest of the way, he fell face first into the pillow, and the last thing he saw before blackness swept over him was his daughters agonized face from the doorway.

 

                _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

                It was a few hours later before Mickey regained consciousness, growling at the sharp tingling of his cheek. It took him a few moments before he could pull himself out of the haze to realize he had been flipped onto his back and someone was fucking slapping him. Hard. It took everything he had, but he managed to lift his head and concentrate on the blur in front of him enough to understand that Brooklyn was there.

 

                “Ey! _HEY!_ What the **fuck** did you do?!” There was an edge of hysteria to her voice, but it was controlled and pissed as hell.

 

                “Mmm…” Was all Mickey was able to get out, his eyes rolling back and head flopping lifelessly onto the pillow. The brunette girl smacked him again, her voice getting louder and he opened his eyes again to find a bit more clarity. Brooklyn was sitting beside him, leaning over him with one arm curled around his forearm and turning it towards her with an odd look of horror and recognition on her face. He heard the hissed, “Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey?!” before he blacked out again, welcoming the nothingness with open arms.

 

                _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

                Vivid images of grenades and dismembered body parts terrorized his dreams, and the drug fucked state he’d passed out in made it difficult to gain enough control to burst through the barrier of unconsciousness but he managed. His chest hurt so bad he woke up gasping for air, tensing and blinking rapidly to take in as much as he could. Mickey lifted the fog as much as he could, still half soaring on a beautiful cloud of unknown but clearing his thoughts enough to see Brooklyn asleep beside him with worry lines creasing her brow even in slumber. But she wasn’t his concern.

 

                Now that he was half lucid, a part of him was dying slowly remembering the shattered expression on Avelyn’s sweet little mug. And he sank, down down down until he was convinced water was filling his lungs and he _had_ to see her, _now_.

 

                Mickey tripped over his own two feet a few times but made it far enough to fall into the girls’ door. Something felt off, icy fingers of fear grasped at his insides and he couldn’t even begin to understand why. But he needed to check on the girls. His wrist twisted limply, opening the door. A few toes got stubbed on the way, but he was beside Marley’s bed after a few moments since her bed was closest to the door. Marley was fast asleep, snoring lightly with her chestnut hair fanned out around her and thumb stuffed into her slack mouth. This sight did nothing to quell the screaming of his guts.

 

                He somehow fell in a stupidly lucky way that had him with one arm leaning on Avelyn’s crib wall. The mobile was moving, gentle light glowing from beneath the figure as it blanketed the sleeping baby in soft illumination. A tender smile pulled weakly at his lips, but his muscles especially in his face still weren’t responding properly. So he just stood there and drank in the sight of his sleeping baby, not understanding the sinking feeling in his belly that felt like it was burning right through him.

 

                Until the paralyzing realization that Avelyn _wasn’t fucking breathing_ sucked the air right out of him.

 

                Mickey couldn’t move, couldn’t yell out like he wanted to. Just stared, glacial eyes huge and bugging as he thought about what this meant. How he fucked it up again somehow. If he’d been in his right mind he’d at least have an inkling of the proper reaction to this situation, but his heroin addled brain delayed his responses no matter how viciously he fought against the cloud. Finally, his self-hatred hit an ultimate high even when he made it to his bed since it was closer than Mandy’s room. His fingers cold fingers found Brooklyn’s leg in a bruising grip, and he didn’t even understand what came out of his mouth but Brooklyn took one look at his face, heard him mumble “not breathing” and was on her feet sprinting to the girls room. The door banged disturbingly loud in the suddenly morbid silence a Brooklyn skittered into the crib, looking down. Then she was screaming for Mandy to call someone. Mandy was suddenly there, knocking into his shoulder and throwing Mickey off balance enough that he almost fell to the floor. He leaned heavily on the doorframe, watching, bellowing in his head but it wasn’t reaching his lips. Despair washed over him as Mandy screeched what sounded like their address into her cell phone and Brooklyn very gently slapped Avelyn’s soft cheek; urgently but so softly pressed on her fragile ribcage. Mickey couldn’t process this, couldn’t breathe. Only buckled under the crushing guilt that squeezed at his chest. The floor was rushing to meet his face before he could stop it, oblivion winning once more.

 

* * *

_Lonely sky, the more you take the more that I give in_  
 _Holy eyes, I never knew_  
 _I know, I know_  
 _Don't go!_  
 _Hold on to the memory_  
 _It's all you've got_  
 _I know you'll be there to soak up the blood lost_  
 **_Don't go!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I…I am so fucking sorry. This ended up being so much longer than I intended, but I hoped you all enjoyed. Let me know what you think, please! =] Promise not to keep you waiting long since I ended this where I did and that there’s a reason behind all this madness. Thanks as always for all the love and support!


	7. Come Tomorrow This Will All Be In Our Past, It Might Be For The Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life, lack of motivation, my own personal Shameless-esque drama. So many reasons and excuses. But I'm back now! Who's excited for Season 5?! :D Sorry about the hiatus guys, but the muse is coming strong again! Thanks to anyone who stuck it out. Bear with me through this chapter, there's reasons. I promise! More notes at the end.
> 
> Don't own Shameless, anting you recognize, or "If it Means A Lot To You" by A Day To Remember which is the inspiration for this chapter. Unbetaed as usual, sorry for any mistakes. This is really raw, just finished it and too tired and excited to post to truly edit so edited version soon! Also, as usual wrote this on my Surface RX and it's touchy keyboarding and questionable formatting so sorry if it's wonky!

__And hey, darling I hope you’re good tonight_ _   
_And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving_   
_Yeah, I want it but no I don’t need it_   
_Tell me something sweet to get me by_   
_Cause I can’t come back home till they’re singing_   
_If you can wait till I get home,_   
_Then I swear to you that we can make this last_   
_If you can wait till I get home,_   
_Then I swear come tomorrow this will all be in our past_   
_Well it might be for the best_

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

           “Get up.”

 

           The world was shaking, was there an earthquake or something? Mickey’s muddled brain fought to the surface for the umpteenth time that night, slightly confused as to what the fuck was happening until he felt nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

 

           “What the fuck…” Mickey protested with a slight whine to his voice, wanting to just be blanketed in the darkness again and Jesus, why was everything so bright and fuzzy at the same time?

 

            “Wake up, motherfucker.” The hissing hurt his ears, the unbridled anger in those words piercing something inside of him and awakening this sense of urgency. He had to wake up, he couldn’t remember what but he remembered something _bad_ had happened. Bleary blue eyes blinked open, staring up into the cold, disapproving eyes of his baby sister as her lip curled back at her own words, disgust apparent in her features. “You’re the only one that can see her, they won’t let Brook or even me in to see her. Wake the _fuck_ up.”

 

            Mickey rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, as everything came rushing back in slow motion. Ice cold fear shot through his veins. He fought to regain full awareness, the drugs were well worn off by this point. They had to be. He hadn’t done that much.

 

            Had he?

 

            Forcing his tone to remain neutral, he forced his heavy legs off the bed and shoved Mandy out of his way so he could pull on a pair of jeans (when had he taken those off?) and jam his feet into his boots sluggishly. Mandy just leaned against the door frame, glaring daggers at him with every ounce of Milkovich attitude within her. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, and she tossed her long burgundy hair over her shoulder.

 

            The ex con shrugged into his jacket, and ran into the bathroom quickly to splash some water on his face as he fought to be clear. His heart was thudding a little faster than usual, making his chest uncomfortably tight. As he reached to turn the faucet off, he shook himself before making his way back to his still mean mugging sister. “How long was I out for?”

 

            Mandy’s eyes narrowed even more as they quickly went to the family car. She hopped in the driver’s side and Mickey didn’t say a word, just climbed in beside her. He was just about to ask the question again when Mandy snapped at him. “You were out for six fucking hours straight, Mickey. Four before you woke up and for some fucked reason that I am so happy for went into the kids room and noticed your daughter had stopped breathing and then passed the fuck out and left me and Brooklyn to deal with it and worry about your useless ass!”

 

            Mickey kept his eyes in his lap guiltily, clenching his teeth against the wet fire in his eyes. “Mandy…”

 

            “No, Mickey! Fucking NO! What were you thinking? What in god damn hell were you thinking?!” Mandy screeched, her foot a little heavier on the gas pedal but Mickey was grateful for it right then. When he didn’t answer, Mandy reached over with a scowl and smacked him with all her might on the small but still sore hole where he’d stuck himself with the needle. The dark haired boy didn’t even wince, but his cheek twitched in shame a little. “I thought you were done with that shit years ago, assface! Avvie does not need a heroin fucked father, she deserves better than that!”

 

            Mickey finally broke a little bit, but not in defense of himself. His breathing was shallow and controlled as Mandy’s harsh but true words hit home. “How is she?” He managed to croak out, fingers twitching and he wished he had a cigarette.

 

            Mandy didn’t answer right away as she took a sudden sharp left turn into the hospital parking lot, jolting Mickey to the side in his seat but he braced himself on the center console and then against the seat as Mandy jerkily parked in the closest spot she saw. She was rushing out of the car before she responded. “She’s alive.”

            The siblings high tailed it into the revolving doors, smacking into each other a bit before Mandy took off, obviously knowing the direction she needed to go in. Mickey was hot on her heels, following her blindly with his heart thumping deafeningly in his ears. They came upon a waiting room, and he saw Brooklyn sitting in a chair with her leg bouncing anxiously, Marley passed out in her lap. As soon as she saw Mickey her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet.

 

             Mandy grabbed the nearest nurse and dragged her over to them, her lip curled and patience at its end. “Here, here is her biological father can we see her now?!”

 

             The nurse looked over him a bit disapprovingly, and he was glad he’d had the sense to turn his arm into his side to hide the track marks. She reluctantly agreed, leading them to a door down the hall and as soon as the door was open Mickey was stumbling over to the bed.

 

               His throat constricted and he had to determinedly swallow down bile that rose in his throat at the sight of his baby girl, his tiny fragile little soul wrapped up in blankets with all sorts of wires connected to her. She was sleeping, but it didn’t stop him from rushing to take her miniature hand in his larger one and clutch onto it for dear life.

               “What-what happened?” The dark haired man croaked, his voice raw and scratchy.

 

                The nurse sighed, and explained that sometimes it does just happen. However in this instance, Avelyn had a heart murmur. They’d called in the hospital’s pediatric cardiologist and he’d run some tests. He’d diagnosed her with a congenital heart defect. She explained that that was the cause of her blue lips, and once shed begun breathing again her breathing had been very rapid and concerning. They would have to monitor it, and keep very close watch on the little one. It wasn’t uncommon for infants to develop these things and it might go away over time, or get more severe in nature. Only time would tell.

 

                Mickeys head spun. How had this happened? What caused it?

               

                He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until the nurse asked him if the mother practiced any unhealthy behavior while pregnant, to which he nodded. Lana had drank and smoked her whole pregnancy, and he told the nurse as much as well as how Lana’s body had given out during the birth because of her failing health. The nurse nodded, seeming to expect such and answer. After going over how they should proceed, and when to come back for more tests, the nurse left him to himself.

 

                Mandy and Brooklyn entered the room, Marley still assed out on her mother’s shoulder. They took in the stricken expression on Mickey’s face and automatically assumed the worst. Both girls seemed only slightly relieved when he laid out the details. They all sat in a grim silence until the nurse returned with release papers and strict, written instructions on how to monitor the murmur and a stethoscope for them to take home. She told them it would be added to the bill, and Mickey’s brain literally couldn’t handle thinking about the no doubt insane price all of this was going to run.

 

                The trio plus two miniatures drove home in a haunting silence. It was going to be a long night.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

                After settling the girls in their beds, Mandy disappeared into her room which left Mickey and Brooklyn to wander into theirs. Mickey sat numbly on the bed, staring down at his hands. Were the shaking or was that his vision? He wasn’t sure.

 

                “You feeling better?” Brooklyn asked, gently closing the door behind her and immediately lighting a cigarette as she perched on the bed beside him.

               

                Ice blue eyes lifted to shoot her a scathing look. “What the fuck do you think?”

               

                Her sapphire ones rolled in response. “I meant physically, fuckhead. I cleaned your puke up off the floor last night so I was just curious if I should be prepared for round two.”

 

                He stared in disbelief. He didn’t remember getting sick, but she had no reason to make that up. Mickey shifted his gaze to his feet in shame. “My bad. Didn’t mean to get that fucked.”

 

                Brooklyn nodded, knowing that pushing for anything more than that would get nowhere. “Listen, Mick…” She began, and Mickey’s eyes hardened as he steeled himself for the lecture. But it never came. “I’m not going to freak out on you, I have no right to really. I’m the first person to understand the need to forget, self-destruct and live without consequence because if not you’ll break…But you have Avelyn now. We have to be strong for them.”

 

                As much as his tongue ached to lash out at her with sharp words, he knew she was right. His stomach churned, and he finally grew the balls to meet her gaze.

 

                No anger, just gentle empathy. It made him sick. He’d fucked up, like colossally fucked up and here she was all understanding and shit. He expected anger and disappointment, not this.

 

                Nodding for lack of knowing what to say to that, he shook his shoulders in an attempt to release the ridiculous tension there and changed the subject. His voice sounded wrecked even to his own ears. “Why did you lose your shit this morning?”

 

                Her soft smile fell, morphing into a contemplative, sad frown. “The same reason I was so fucking mad at you at first for coming back here the way you did and doing that shit. Which was yesterday, by the way,” She paused for a moment, considering how much to share. “Marik had a heroin problem for a little, a few months before I got pregnant with Marley so that fucked with my head a lot. I hate the way people fucking are on that shit, man.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m the last one to judge, but I almost didn’t get him back from that. Anyways, the reason I…” Brooklyn swallowed thickly, her fingers twitching nervously and fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Lost my shit as you put it yesterday morning, was because he proposed to me on Christmas morning and wrapped a bunch of different layers of boxes with different stuff in them and the ring at the end of it all. I guess when I opened it and saw those boxes, it just hit home really hard.” Her voice was almost a whisper at the end, trembling a bit as if she were waiting for him to laugh at her for her weakness.

 

                When he said nothing, too busy still feeling guilty over his own behavior and slightly relieved that at least her break down hadn’t been directly his fault, her eyes flicked to his face. “You wanna tell me what your conniption was about?”

 

                Mickey shrugged, gnawing on his upper lip for a moment and lighting a cigarette before answering her. There was no use lying. “Other day was two years he’s been gone. Then with everything else that went on, I…” He shrugged again.

 

                Brooklyn nodded, knowing he wasn’t really going to say much else. She scooted a bit closer, and hesitantly laid her head on his shoulder. His nerves were so frayed, his thoughts so low and self-loathing that he didn’t flinch away from her. He welcomed the familiar warmth, and took solace in the comfortable silence that fell between them.

 

                After a moment, she chuckled a little. “We’re a real special kind of fucked up, huh?”

 

                Mickey just nodded, pinching his eyes closed and wondering for the millionth time when that special kind of fucked up shit in his life was going to let up.

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

               

                A few days passed, and things returned to normal. Or as normal as could be, anyways. Mickey was at work, his first day back since his body had gone through a sort of withdrawal all over again. Avelyn was up and active, and Mickey, despite his horrid state, insisted on reading her a story book before bed every night. He could care less if the hands that turned the pages had a slight tremor to them, if the voice that spoke the words cracked as he read them aloud or Avelyn was too young to really understand them. Every night he’d wait until she fell asleep, watching over her vigilantly until he was satisfied enough to go to bed himself. The girl was just about ready for bed, throwing a fit in her walker and throwing her strawberries everywhere.

               

                Brooklyn sighed, cleaning up the dishes from dinner. Marley was watching a movie, enraptured in the cartoon animation so at least there was that. Mandy was at work until later that night, and Mickey would be home within the half hour so she made him a plate and put it in the microwave. All she wanted was to put the cranky baby to bed, but Mickey would just wake her up when he returned so it was redundant.

 

                The brunette had just finished up the dishes when the scent of meth and stale beer hit her and she turned in time to see Terry enter the kitchen, cigarette between his lips. He went right for the fridge for a beer, before acknowledging her presence. “How’s the kid?” He asked, cold eyes looking her up and down. Brooklyn was used to this by now, desensitized to his foul demeanor enough to take it in stride.

               

                “She’s fine.” Brooklyn answered, putting away the clean dishes. She expected that to satisfy him, and for Terry to get disinterested and wander off as he usually did but he lingered in the same spot for a few minutes. She turned to him once more. “You need anything?” She carefully kept her tone helpfully inquisitive. Terry didn’t take to snarky very well.

 

                His jaw clenched for a minute, distrustful gaze nailing her in place. “You still fucking my boy?”

               

                Terror thrummed through her, but outwardly she didn’t even blink and nodded.

 

                Terry seemed unconvinced. “Doesn’t really seem like it. Starting to think this is all bullshit.” The gravel of his voice was beyond unnerving, suspicion glinting in his eyes.

 

                Brooklyn opened her mouth to answer, but was saved by the front door opening and Mickey stomping inside. Her heart lurched, an idea striking her and she just acted. Bouncing over to him, she slung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

 

                Mickey’s entire body jerked and he yanked his head back, eyes screaming “What the fuck?!” and mouth opening to exclaim the same before he saw Brooklyn’s terrified eyes and infinitesimal head shake. He noticed Terry standing behind her, watching them intently and although his body wanted to resist his command, he leaned forward and captured her lips again just for show.

 

                Brooklyn pulled away with a shaky smile, and mumbled something about going to get the girls ready for bed before disappearing. Mickey looked to his father, waiting for whatever his reaction was going to be.

 

                Terry regarded his son doubtfully. “Can I get a piece of her? You didn’t mind with the whore.”

 

                Mickey’s posture went rigid, ice cold fear shooting up his spine. If this was a test, that meant Terry was beginning to see through the ruse and he needed to pass it. If he meant it, that was even worse and made him dread for Brooklyn’s safety in his home. In as controlled and possessive voice he could muster, he spoke and prayed his words were the right ones. “No, she’s mine.” Terry still didn’t seem convinced, so he swallowed heavily and forced himself to say words so foreign to him he felt like an alien just speaking them but he had to pretend. “I…I love her.”

 

                 His bastard of a fathers eyebrow quirked, but he seemed to back off. “Coulda fucking fooled me.” His tone seemed disinterested, but Mickey heard the underlying threat. They needed to step up their game, he just wasn’t quite sure how to go about that.

 

                Scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly, Mickey made his way into the girl’s bedroom and did his nightly routine of checking Avelyn’s heart and reading her book. After watching her for a good half hour after her eyes fluttered closed, he trudged into his room and collapsed back on the bed. Brooklyn soon after came out of the bathroom, joining him.

 

                “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

 

                He grunted disapprovingly.

 

                “Okay, well you wanna do some shots and relax?”

 

                “Fuck off.” He snapped, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind was racing, still all out of whack from the events of the last week.

 

                Brooklyn visibly bristled, crossing her arms. “God, you’re being a dick! Ever since the other night you were moaning Ian’s name in your sleep-“

 

                 Mickey’s blood ran cold. “What?” He choked out, completely taken off guard. He…He’d fucking what? He had been having the same violent dreams of war that were disconnected and bleary, and a few times he’d woken up with a hard on from having sex dreams but he could never remember exactly what they were. And hell, he hadn’t gotten laid since that last time with Ian before his wedding so it wasn’t a shocker that his libido was acting up in his unconsciousness but that shit was scary. He couldn’t be doing that. Terry could hear and that was all he needed.

 

                The girl hesitated, seeing to fully think over her words before deciding to proceed. “If you’re horny, just go out and find someone to fuck. I’ll watch the kids.”

 

                The ex con shrugged noncommittally, rubbing his thumb anxiously along his lower lip and wanting to just let the subject fade away. “Nah.”

 

                 “Mickey…”

 

                “Drop it.” He barked, tone leaving no room for argument. He pulled his t-shirt off, leaving his pale body clad in only a wife beater and stripped his pants as well before climbing into bed and turning his back to her.

 

               He didn’t mention that, although he was ready to fucking burst from lack of sexual release, the last thing he wanted was to fuck another guy. Especially since it was so close to the day Ian had fucked off, the thought of another man’s hands on him mace his skin crawl. Mickey also pointedly ignored the look she gave him. Like she got it.

 

              Mickey pulled the covers up over his face, blocking out the world and wishing he could do the same to his own frantic mind.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

               

                Mickey had deluded himself all of the following days that that was going to be the end of that. So he was sexually frustrated, so what? Nothing to be done about it.

 

                But of course, a few nights later, he was minding his own business lounging on his back with a joint in his mouth when Brooklyn rolled into him and he felt a sharp nip to his neck.

 

                His body was wracked with spasms, eyes flying open to glare accusingly while he jerked back. “The fuck are you doing?”

 

                Brooklyn looked sheepish, and shrugged a little. “I mean, why not? You’ve done girls before. You’re horny, I’m horny. It’s not like either of us are getting it anywhere else.”

 

                Mickey literally could not even handle this. His mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide with disbelief and brows up to his hairline. “Oh my god, we are not talking about this. Fucking let it go right now.”

 

                “Mickey, your dad is getting suspicious and we’re both wound so tight with all this fucked up shit going on that we’re gonna kill someone soon.”

 

                He still could not believe his ears. She couldn’t be serious. “Oh so what do you propose we fuck in front of him? Think that’ll work?” Sarcasm was dripping from his tone as he mocked her, one hand tugging his hair and the other rubbing his face.

 

                Brooklyn rolled her eyes for what must’ve been the millionth time since she met him. “No, but neither of us have gotten off in so long I’m sure just the noise that would be made naturally would do the trick. These walls are thin as hell.”

 

                “Jesus, shut up!” He was not. Was NOT having this conversation. It was absurd.

 

                Wasn’t it?

 

                He paused, unbelieving of his own logic that was actually starting to twist this into a semi decent idea. Brooklyn watched him in silence, catching onto the fact that he was starting to see the point of her proposition.

 

                After all, Mickey loved convenience. And what could be more convenient than this?

 

                He stalled, grinding his teeth. This was starting to sound really appealing. Sure, she was soft and petite and he preferred hard muscles and a cock up his ass but an orgasm was an orgasm. Right? With the added bonus of keeping his dad of his back.

 

                Mickey gazed at her, half convinced but she could see the hesitation still there.

               

                So she took matters into her own hands and swung one leg over his, seating herself in his lap and stopping to gauge his reaction.

 

                The blue eyed boy breathed heavily through his nose, refusing to meet her eyes and not moving an inch. When he didn’t push her off, Brooklyn took that as a sign to continue and began to tangle her fingers in the hem of his tank top, tugging on it curiously.

               

                He finally locked eyes with her, and god damnit. God. Damnit. “Oh, fuck it.” He relented, letting her pull his shirt over his head. She did the same to her own, and he shoved her back on the bed as she did so to shuck his pants. His body was moving on autopilot because if he thought about this too much he didn’t know what would happen. So he just stopped thinking, and let his little head take over. The little head that wouldn’t be standing at attention now if it hadn’t been over two years since something other than his hand got him off, so this had to be the answer right?

 

                She wriggled out of her pajama pants, panties going with and he knocked her hands away when she went to remove her bra. “No tits.” He growled, and she grinned in amusement but obliged. Brooklyn lurched forward and shoved him onto his back, straddling him again and reaching between them.

 

                Mickeys heart palpitated in his chest, the rhythm beating so wildly it hurt his sternum as his brain backtracked to the last time he’d been in this position with a woman and all he could do was stare sadly into tormented green eyes. Panicking, he gripped her in the middle and flipped them so he was laying on top of her, And despite the slightly traumatizing flashback, his body was reacting to the feel of naked skin sliding along his even if said naked skin was too soft. He considered his option for a few moments before slinking down her body. He had no desire to put his dick in her, wasn’t sure if he was capable of it so he’d have to get her off another way. He’d done it to the girls he’d slept with for appearance sake before, it wasn’t the absolute worst and would be over quickly.

 

                Brooklyn caught on and snorted. “So you’ll put your face between my legs, but not your-“

 

                Mickey cut her off by settling between her thighs, pulling her roughly into him and digging his teeth into her sensitive skin to shut her up. She moaned, hands coming to tangle in his hair as he started tonguing her with long, wet licks. She made a few obnoxiously loud noises, that he was almost sure were for show and purposely banged her hand back on the headboard so it would slap against the wall. It didn’t take long before her whole body was shuddering and her legs were locking around his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting onto the floor as he rolled off of her to allowing her to catch her breath. As much as he wasn’t into her in that way (sure she was fucking beautiful inside and out but she didn’t have a cock) the sexual activity and his lack of release over the last two years had him painfully hard and he reached down and started palming himself through his boxers. Not missing a beat she switched their positions, sinking down to her knees between his legs and not even hesitating to swallow him down. His eyes snapped shut, and he wouldn’t have been able to quiet the almost embarrassingly loud moan of relief that ripped out of his throat if he’d wanted to. His hips immediately thrust up, practically fucking her mouth and she just allowed it, relaxing her throat muscles and teasing his balls and perineum with her tiny fingers. Right as he felt the coil in his belly begin to tighten, she pressed a hard knuckle into that spot and massaged his prostate from the outside and he fucking exploded with a wordless shout, hips bucking involuntarily until he was spent.

 

                He collapsed back onto the bed, and Brooklyn followed suit. They both immediately lit up a cigarette, and smoked in a half comfortable, half awkward silence. God damn he missed the post orgasm cigarette, this was as close to bliss as he was going to get any time soon. Fuck. She’d been right.

 

                A dirty smirk crossed his face. “You weren’t kidding about not having a gag reflex.”

 

                Brooklyn flipped him off with a childish look, and then giggled. Fucking giggled. “Told ya.”

 

                He half smiled at her, and couldn’t deny that he felt like all the little bands of tension in his body were, at least temporarily, dissolved. Mickey finished his smoke, staring at the ceiling in blissfully quiet thoughts until she spoke.

                “So, what was that about? I know you’ve fucked a girl before.”

 

                Mickey quirked an eyebrow. “I have.”

 

                “Then why didn’t you fuck me?” Honest curiosity rang in her voice.

 

                “Fuck off.” Mickey replied gruffly, kicking her foot.

 

                A small smile pulled at her lips. “You think I’m ugly, don’t you?” She teased, fake pouting. His eyes saw the inside of their sockets.

 

                “Christ, are you a twelve year old girl?” He grumbled, choking the ember of his cigarette in the ash tray on the night stand.

 

                “Tell me!” She pushed, pouting even more. Stubborn bitch.

 

                Mickey was having none of it, and her whining was getting on his nerves. “Brook, let it the fuck go.”

 

                Brooklyn sighed in exasperation, and kicked his ankle in retaliation. “I’ll just rape you,” She joked.

 

                Mickey wasn’t sure what his face looked like in that moment, but he knew his heart fell into his fucking balls and the breath left him in a whoosh. Goosebumps rose on his flesh, it felt like ice was running in his veins making him freeze up. Her expression instantly became horrified as the pieces seemed to suddenly click into place. “Oh god, Mickey, is that why?!”

 

                He considered getting up and leaving. He wanted no part in those memories resurfacing, but his body was so damn relaxed he just couldn’t find it in himself to get up. Shrugging in defeat, he gave her the spark notes of Svetlana and how she’d come into his life.

 

               Brooklyn sat in dismay, sitting up at the waist with tears rising. “So… Avelyn…” Her head shook a bit, unable to process this information. “Holy shit, Mick.”

                 
              Mickey’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Don’t you fucking pity me.”

  
              “Mickey…”

 

             “Stop. Right fucking now. Knock it off. It’s done.” The finality of his tone kept her quiet, but the stricken expression didn’t drop. Mickey just kept his frown firmly in place, looking down at the bed sheets covering his legs. When she hugged him, he let her for a second. Just to make her feel better, not him, before he shrugged her off.

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

               “Gallagher!”

 

               Ian jumped, pulling himself quickly up from the stomach crawl he’d been executing perfectly under some barbed wire. When he popped to his feet and saw the owner of the voice calling to him, his brow shot up. “Banks, what’s up?”

 

               Ryan was jogging over to him, a grin on his face. “Why’re you training alone?”

 

               The redhead shrugged, using his shirt to wipe the perspiration from his face as he answered, chest heaving. “Didn’t think anyone would want to train with me since they worked us so hard earlier.” Was he crazy or did Ryan’s gaze rake over his briefly exposed abdomen? Filing that information away for later, Ian sipped his water and slowly caught his breath.

 

                “I’m always down for a good workout.” Ryan answered, and okay that grin was definitely a little dirty and his tone was insinuating a double meaning behind his words.

 

                Ian wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he playfully punched him in the shoulder and took off running towards the rope walls. “First one up the wall wins!”

 

                Ryan sprinted after him. They laughed and tried to trip each other up, push each other over and just getting in the others way as much as possible,

 

                Ian’s heart was heavy as it thought of another boy he’d done something similar with, in an alley running from the cops on the North Side. His chest clenched painfully, his teeth grit in regret but his eyes burned determination as he scaled the ropes. Pulling himself to the top, he crouched on the wooden landing there and threw a smirk over his shoulder at Ryan who was still a few feet down. Locking that ache right back up inside of him, he looked at the ground below. “Better hurry up, I’m starting to think you can’t keep up!”

 

                “Fuck you, Gallagher!” Ryan laughed back, coming to the top and reaching out to shove Ian lightheartedly.

 

                The green eyed boy just snickered before leaping off the edge.

 

                _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

 _You know you can’t give me what I need  
And even though you mean so much to me  
I can’t wait through everything  
Is this really happening  
_ _I swear I’ll never be happy again_  
And don’t you dare say we can just be friends  
I’m not some boy that you can sway  
We’d knew it’d happen eventually

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo what do you think? THERE'S REASONS I PROMISE. This is Gallavich endgame, we just need some angst until then I promise!! It will be worth the wait and the craziness that happens in the mean time. I want you guys to know I struggled with the idea of the mutual getting off with Mick and Brook, but its essential to Mickey's healing process in this as backwards as that sounds. It's also believe able, I think anyways, since he's messed with girls before and even bangs that redhead in the Alibi in 4x03 even if he couldn't get off. I think a blow job, especially after two years of nothing is logical and I tried to keep it as clinical and detached as possible since its not romantic at ALL and none of us really care about Mickey messing with a girl. But. REASONS. I swear it will all make sense! Feedback appreciated. I've already begun the next chapter, it will NOT be as long of a wait! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me some thoughts or come chat about all the Gallavich feels! tumblr: loveonawirex3


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